His past, his god damn past. Twenty years he had searched for it; searched long enough he could have made a new past. But something deep inside him told him he couldn’t forget, couldn’t move on, he had to know. He was foolish enough to think that meant there was somewhere he was needed, an unconscious beacon summoning him home.

A few years ago he found out that wasn’t the case. He never found his past. His past found him. That feeling of need to remember was his survival instinct trying to make him remember the pain, the people, the enemy.

And now he remembered it. Remembered every god damn thing and whished he hadn’t. But at least now he knew why he was running. And who he was running from. Those bastards were going to have to try a lot harder to get him a second time, that he’d make sure of. So if he’d have to run from them another two years and keep wiping them out one faceless fucker at a time then that’s what he’d do. But the Wolverine wouldn’t be collared again.




He paced around the cage, hungry and waiting. Coming to these places almost always insured they’d catch his trail again. Shit-hole bars in bum-fuck nowhere was the first place they looked for him. But he didn’t care. The chase, being the prey, ate at his predator psyche. The fights were the only thing that kept him sane. He needed them, needed to see the sad plea on the beaten and bloodied humans’ faces, begging him for mercy, asserting that HE was the alpha.

A long, slow drag from his cigar filled his lung with the comforting smoke, forcing out the air of stale, cheap cigarettes. Clenching his eyes shut he leaned heavily against the back of the cage. His nerves hissed as the shark wire dug into his skin although his face remained expressionless. He didn’t watch as they dragged the lump of his last opponent out and the leers and boos of the crowd were merely a faint, ethereal noise that seemed so far away. The only sense that stayed heightened was his nose. And what he smelled was desperation. Pathetic desperation from every last dumb fuck in that place.

Another challenger stepped into the cage with the Wolverine and he swore into his drink. He wanted to get him out of there without a scene but the fights never seemed to end. Didn’t any of these poor fools realize they didn’t have a chance? He could see through the hazy fog and rowdy crowd that new challenger taking a swing at the Wolverine. Apparently not.

Downing the rest of his scotch, he decided the freak had been out long enough. Not to mention he was eager to get the hefty reward the general was offering. He pulled out his phone from the inside breast pocket of his jean jacket and pressed the only button on it that actually did anything.

“Yes, sir, it’s Lt. Anderson. I’ve got him. He’s--”

He didn’t see the small hand come up from behind him but was startled when it lightly grasped his over the phone. His words stopped and he could only give small gasps as his body seizured. Pain surrounded him until he fell into unwelcome, unholy oblivion.

“Anderson? Anderson, report! Do you re--”

A leather clad foot reached over his body on the floor and landed hard onto the phone, making sure to crush it into the liquor and piss covered concrete floor. Its partner joined it with a little leap.

She looked down at the man as she jumped up onto his stool. Shaking her head she tugged her dark, navy glove back on. A familiar pounding formed in her head and she rubbed her temples while rolling her eyes, trying to ease the pressure.

“Oh, sugah, ya are a bad, bad boy,” she mumbled to the body and reached for his glass. It wasn’t till she touched it to her lips that she found it was empty. She huffed and turned it upside down. The ice bounced off the back of his head before settling on the ground beside him.

“Excuse me? Can ah get a refill?” She called out to the bartender, waving the empty glass and winking at him.

He came over immediately, a pudgy middle aged man covered in his own sweat. “Sure, honey, what were you having?”

She sniffed the glass then smirked. “Scotch. But don’t be wastin’ no space with ice.”

“You got it,” He reached to take her glass but his hand stilled when he saw the man lying face down on the floor. “Wha…” he stammered, eyes wide.

“Wha…” she repeated, looking at him. Then she followed his eye line to the mass at her feet and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, him. Some people jus’ can’t hold their liquor, ah guess. Anyway! How ‘bout that scotch, big fella?”

The slow southern drawl dragged his attention back to her where it blatantly landed on her ample chest. He lingered there till a glass was again shoved in his face and she smirked at him. “Ya ain’t gonna keep a girl waitin’ are ya?”

Quickly he shook his head, his second and third chin jiggling, and ran to the back shelf behind the bar. He returned and refilled her glass with a shaky hand, unable to stop himself until the amber liquid was pouring over the side. She took it and winked at him again before turning her stool to face the main attraction.

Inside the cage the man Lt. Anderson knew as the Wolverine was shoving the heel of his boot into the ribs of some tiny little shaking man that was laying on the floor. Her grin grew as she looked down to the man at her own feet. As she figured it, guessing by the new military information buzzing through her system, she had a little over an hour before the cavalry came. And that was more than enough time to watch the rest of the fights and finish her drink.

“Your money,” the bookie hissed and threw the wad at him.

It hit his chest before falling into his hands. He unrolled it and let each bill flip through his fingers. It wasn’t that he cared about the money, he just didn’t like people screwing him over anymore. Once the agreed three-thousand dollars was counted out he nodded to the old man.

Glass crunched under his boots as he cut through the empty bar. There was only a handful of people left and most of them were passed out against something. No one gave him crap as he made his way out, which was unusual. Usually somebody tried for the load of money he carried or wanted revenge for the beating their brothers got in the cage.

He was grateful for it, though, and let his tense body relax. It had been three days since he’d last slept because he had to get some distance between them before he could stop for the fights. There was nothing he wanted more than to crash with the rest of them but now that the fights were over he had to keep moving. Every minute he was there was ten minutes they were closer to catching him.


The cold four a.m. air hit him hard when he opened the squeaking bar door, forcing him to cough. He zipped his leather jacket up, its warmth instantly spreading to his body. The night was silent, even to his enhanced hearing, but that could have been because he was so exhausted.

He swore at himself for parking his truck so far away at the back of the building. The adamantium in his legs were making them even harder to drag across the asphalt.

Rounding the corner of the building he stopped. Something wasn’t right. He took three tentative steps forward, sniffing the air as he went. Again he didn’t smell or hear anything. But the hairs on his neck were at a sharp point and the beast inside him was becoming more and more agitated. With a loud ‘shikt’ six claws were released from between his knuckles, though the ringing metallic noise was still the only thing he could hear.

Then a scent from behind him hit his nose hard. Honey and cinnamon under a thick coat of booze. Quickly he turned around, claws raised at his sides.

“Woah, sugah!” The girl took a step back, her hands up in the air. He narrowed his eyes studying her. He couldn’t make much out in the dark, aside from the ghostly white strands in her hair reflecting in the moonlight.

“You followin’ me?” He barked at her, making up for her retreating step with one of his own.

“Well, damn. Of course ahm followin’ ya! Why tha hell else would ah be standin’ out here?” Her hands went to her hips in defiance, but she did take another step back away from him.

He sniffed the air around her again, but smelled no gun powder. They always smelled like gun powder. Oddly enough the smell that his nose had become so accustomed to was no present on her. Fear.

“Listen, kid. I ain’t interested in a ‘good time’. But thanks, there’s still a few guys in there if you go on in now.” His claws returned to their place inside his forearms and he turned away from her to make his way to his truck.

She was about to say something when a shot rang out somewhere in the distance. He stumbled to his left, clenching his shoulder and she considered letting him take a few more bullets for his hooker comment before helping him.

His loud roar when a second shot hit him in the side surprised her. It validated Lt. Anderson’s assertion to her that he was an animal. Animal or no, she was impressed that even though he was staggering he still wasn’t to his knees.




They found him. They fucking found him. It was either them or some asshole after his money, but he was never that lucky. Four different sets of headlights moving from the road answered the question.

The claws sprang out just and the back of his jacket was gripped and he was pulled into the shadows. The girl’s face was not what he expected to see.

She was trying, in vain, to lift his six hundred pound body to its feet. “Damn, sugah, ya eatin’ a lot more than wheaties for breakfast,” she groaned.

He jerked out of her grasp, pushing her away from him at the same time. “Are you fucking crazy?! Get the hell out of here!”

Eyeing the rips his claws had caused in her jacket she squared up in his face. “Hey asshole! Ah came for YOU!”

Suddenly she was pressed against the cold brick wall of the building, his hands clamped tightly around her upper-arms. “Who are you?!” He growled and increased the pressure on her arms for emphases.

She rolled her eyes but still couldn’t help but wince, “Ah’ll be more than happy ta tell ya. But what daya say we get tha FUCK OUT OF HERE first?!”

Shots rang out in more abundance behind him and he could feel his heart straining against its confines. Desperate he slammed her into the wall again. “Talk!”

She tried to push against him but his pin on her was effective; his thighs kept his legs still. There was sweat beginning to form on his forehead and she knew it wasn’t because he was hot. “Listen, sugah. There’s only a few ways this can go down. Eitha they catch ya again an’ ah get the hell outta here. Or ya kill me or ah kill ya, or they both kill us. Well, ah guess they could both catch us… Okay, now that ah think ‘bout it there’s several possible outcome…”

“Shut up!” he yelled, the engines were ringing in his ears. They were close enough now that the smell of gun powder flooded his system.

She watched his pupils dilate and shut her eyes against the pain he was inflicting on her arms. There was probably going to be bruises on her fucking bones at this rate. “Mah preferred scenario is we both get the fuck outta here, but ya gonna have ta trust me!”

He was about to tell her where he could stick her trust but the sounds of car doors opening and shutting reminded him that he had bigger problems then little girls.

Bullets ricocheted off the corner of the building, making tiny pieces of mortar and stucco rain down on them.

“Damn, they ain’t screwin’ around with you.”

He snarled at the giggle in the girl’s voice. The pounding footsteps of heavy boots stopped echoing in his ears, which meant they were just around the other side of the wall.

He risked the distraction of looking at the girl again. Baby cheeks, pouty lips, and wide eyes glared at him, silently challenging him, calm in the middle of the increasing war zone. If he threw her at them and they helped her out it’d prove she was one of them. Then again, if she wasn’t he’d be signing her death warrant. Not that he cared.

Swearing at himself he threw her into the multitude of trash bags and cans that were piled against the wall. The massive accumulation of garbage visibly swallowed her whole. Much to his satisfaction she remained immobile and covered.


As soon as he stepped into the tar colored light three bullets tore into his abdomen. Their entry wounds healed instantly but the tiny chunks of metal bounced off the adamantium inside, ripping random paths through his organs before finally making an exit wound.

Six of them charged him. Them. Their faces were painted out black to match their full body gear, their eyes covered. They happily personified his dark past for him. And now it was literally barreling down on him.

He buried his claws into the first two faceless demons that reached him, basking in the reward of the ’squish’ of the sharp weapons sliding effortlessly through vital tissue.

It ended up being a mistake, not something he did often. The pack swallowing him pushed the leaking bodies against him, making his claws uselessly sheathed in the bodies of their easily forgotten comrades.

Left with only being able to shove at the black moving walls pushing tighter to him he could only flinch when a thick blade was shoved into his side. The tip collided with an enhanced rib sending vibrations through his metallic skeleton, intensifying the pain.

Using the bodies at the end of his arms to slam into and knock down two more of them was a little victory. He didn’t realize he left his back completely unguarded until a taser was rammed into it. Throwing his head back he screamed as his body convulsed from the electricity frying his insides.

The crippling attack finally forced him to his knees. Even his claws admitted defeat and agonizingly retreated back into his arms to hide. He tried to focus on the pattern of the concrete but the image was distorted from the drops of sweat clinging to his eyelashes.

Sweat. That’s what he told himself. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t fucking go back. Sweat. Fuck, he couldn’t get off the damn ground. They deprived his body of sleep then finished beating it into submission. They had managed to ridden him useless to himself. Again. Sweat…

A vice grip in his hair forced his head up. Two black devils swayed in front of him. At least, they looked like they were swaying. Through his fog he could barely make out a charging taser hovering in front of one of them, although the malicious grins shone brightly out of the darkness. He shut his eyes to make them go away, the only way he could at that point.

`````````````

Suddenly the stilled gunshots roared back into life, seemingly in more abundance than before. What the fuck were they shooting at? They fucking had him.

He forced his eyes open, either curiosity or stupidity giving him the strength. But the black mass wasn’t there. Just a girl kneeling in front of him over the bodies of two of his demons, fidgeting to frantically secure her gloves back over her hands.

She looked so out of place in the death laced atmosphere to him, but besides flinching as debris from bullet collisions bombarded around them, she still didn’t smell afraid.

“Are we fuckin’ done here yet, sugah, or there a recipe ya wantin’ ta get from these guys?” She hissed at him and wrapped her small hands around his massive shoulder, once again uselessly trying to haul his mass with her much smaller one.

He wanted to laugh at her. With each pitiful tug on his arm she looked more and more like a frustrated little girl. He was tempted to sit there and watch her keep trying to lift him and wondered how long she would try till she finally gave up and left him there.

“Get tha fuck up! Ah can‘t---AHH!” She dropped her grip on him to lay her hand over the fresh cut on her forearm from one of the bullets grazing her. But she just swore again before pulling harder on him.

It dawned on him that she was not going to leave him there. And suddenly her standing out in the open of a firing range trying to lift his ass wasn’t very funny anymore.


Forcing the metal in his body to work for him for once he got back to his feet and shoved her in front of him towards the back of the building. He was rewarded with five bullets immediately embedding into his back but concentrated on pushing the girl and making his legs run.

He was about to turn towards his truck when his jacket was once again grabbed and he was dragged further into the back, out of the tar light and into the moonlight.

“That one!” She yelled, pointing to a candy-apple mustang parked in the unloading entrance. Too wiped to fight her he just nodded urged his body on the extra distance.

At the door he shielded her body with his as he leaned against the car, it and his stiff arm being the only thing holding him up. Shoving her scarf out of her way she pulled a ‘Big Boy’ key-ring out of the deep-v of her top. She bit her lip and shifted through the keys four times before she finally decided on one.

Shoving in into the hole she breathed out when it turned and jerked the door open. Stopping with one foot in the car she turned and smirked at him. “Ya sure ya don’t want that recipe?”

“Get the fuck in the car, kid.” He growled and shoved her the rest of the way in. She giggled when she turned the ignition and revived the engines up and he slammed the door shut on her in response. Pulling the passenger side door open he shook his head, briefly considering the idea that he was probably safer with them then getting in that car. The damn woman must be psychotic or something.

Just as he got in a bullet scattered the back glass and they both ducked down at the same time. She hit the gas without so much as looking up, her high pitched shriek matched the wheels’ on the pavement. He was barely able to shut his door before it was ripped off by one of the guide poles.

The car and their surrounds were pitched in utter darkness, only the faint moonlight illumined the trunks and boulders that stood in the car’s way. For some reason she had decided staying off the road would help them get away, he figured. Either that or she still wasn’t looking where she was going.

Each jar of the car on the unleveled terrain pierced the knife deeper into his side. The car dipped into a divot just as he wrapped his hand around the handle making him stab it even further into himself. He groaned and glared at her, swearing that the crazy bitch was doing it on purpose.

Her eyes weren’t red and beady nor was there foam dripping from her mouth like he half expected. Instead she was biting her lip, one corner of her mouth tug up into a small grin, her eyes diligent on the path in front of them.

Shaking his head he let it fall back to the head rest. He was really too tired for this shit. One hard tug and blustering roar he removed the knife, throwing on the floorboard and watched it bounce between his feet. There was no reason to touch his side to test the wound, the trickling blood tickled as it moved down his skin before being absorbed by the waste band of his jeans.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl finally turn her head to look at the discarded weapon. The metallic sheen of the blade reflecting in her glazy green eyes was eerie in the moonlight and a cold shill went through him, along with again the notion that he should not be in that car.

“So who the fuck are you?” He grunted. He wanted to pop the claws at her and give her the full Wolverine strong arm. But his weak body could only manage leaning back in the seat and starring straight ahead into the nothingness, just trying to heal.

“That’s a damn good question,” she giggled. He flinched at the noise that was beginning to be the ban of his ears and swore to himself to strangle her the minute he got his strength back.

Evidently she picked up on his bile, tightening her grip on the jiggling wheel, the giggling died in her voice and she quietly added, “Rogue.”

A rogue? Maybe she was with them. Like she felt guilty for the ‘poor fuck with mutants’ project, thought she’d help a few out? “A rogue what?”

She grinned at him, evidently trying to keep the laughter at bay. “Oh, a rogue everything, sugah.”

At her continued twisted answers a fit of fury seized him and gave his body the momentary strength he needed. His hand crushed down over hers on the gearshift throwing the car into park. The barreling sports car lurched onto its front wheels, causing a thick clay cloud to surge up from the disturbed earth around them.

His claws were out and at her throat before her body even wipped back into its seat, his other hand still clamping down on hers. “I want a god damn straight answer out of you and I want it now.”

Dazed from the whiplash she had to blink a few times before an image actually appeared in front of her. Using the spikes in his hair as a reference she shook the remaining haze out of her head till they again became focused.

Once her body realized she wasn’t dead it galvanized into action. Her hand shot out to his wrist to pull his hand off of hers. Cold frenzy collected in her eyes though she was paying no attention to the claws.

“Rule numba one: ah don’t like ta be touched,” she managed to separate her hand from his but backed away flush to her door as soon as she was free.

He just let the other set of claws come out and snorted at her. Again there was no fear mingling with the honey and cinnamon scent surrounding her, which only served to piss him off more. “I don’t give a shit about your rules. What the hell do you want with me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, hissing, “Want with ya? Ah don’t want a damn thing with ya! Ah’m just savin' ya god damn life. Don’t say ‘thank ya’ or nothin’ ta me, though.”

“Why? Who the fuck sent you?!” He barked. Somewhere in the back of his head the more rational part of him warned he didn’t have time for this. If he kept sitting there they’d find him again.

“No one sent me, ya paranoid freak,” she pushed the claws out of her face so she could turn in her seat. The gumption of it shocked him to the point that the claws just retracted back into his arms, like they were choosing her side over his. He starred at her, his face completely gob smacked. What the hell was she?

Spurred on by his silence she put the car into drive again, “Let’s try somethin’. How ‘bout ya trust me and ah’ll see ta it tha big bad wolf don’t get ya? Wait, that ain’t right… If ya the Wolverine ah guess that makes ya the wolf and them… Well, it don’t make no sense for them to be little red ridin’ hood… Oh! Tha hunter! At tha end with tha ax! Yeah, that’s it. Ah’ll make sure the big bad hunter don’t cut ya belly open again.”

He could only stare at her, her ranting completely lost on him. In fact, he wasn't entirely she sure was speaking English. Finally the only word of English he knew at the moment made its way out of his head. “Why?”

“’Cuz,” she turned away from the front to smirk at him. “Ah picked ya, you’re mah new project.”

“You fucking *picked* me?!”

“Yep. Back at tha bar. See there was this dodgy little man and he was callin’ ya in. And at first ah thought, ‘well, ah wondered who he killed.’ No offense or nothin’, sugah, but ya understand. So ah was curious as ta what ya did, when ah found out everythin’, well, ah decided ta help ya out.” She shrugged her shoulders, facing front again. “Ta tell ya the truth ah don’t know why ahm doing this, but ah am. There ain’t always a conspiracy. Maybe ahm just ya guardian angel?”

He snorted, he’d heard a lot about angels in his day and she definitely wasn’t one, not if the two stilled bodies he saw her hovering over just minutes ago had any say.

There weren’t words for what coursed through him. Well maybe there was, like angry, confusion, annoyance, rage. Mainly it all added up to a headache to match his already exhausted body. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, the headache was more intense than the pain of the bullets slowing moving their way out of his back.

They sat in antsy silence for several minutes, her randomly checking the review mirror and him nourishing his wounds, the groan of the tires against the rocks and twigs providing vacant background music.

“What did you do to those guys back there?” his voice seemed to float in the quiet darkness. He didn’t really want to think about the possibility that she was some mystic creature sent to avenge him. It could only backfire on him if someone up there was watching over him.

“What? Ya can have metal claws but ah can’t have deadly skin?”

Another mutant. Well, that made a little bit more sense. Although, he just wasn’t real sure he wanted her help. He had no problem admitting to himself that he was just plain old scared of her. Of a little girl, a little girl with a haunting look, death white streaks in her hair and glassy eyes. But mostly he was willingly to bet she was more than a little insane on top of it.

“Go to sleep, sugah,” Her quiet voice startled him. Suddenly it was smooth and comforting without the maniacal giggles. He was torn between listening to the short lullaby and giving into his body, but his instinct told him no. So she wasn’t an ethereal ghost or part of them, there was still something not right about her.

Instead he concentrated on the rattling of the keys as they hit bounced between the ridiculous Big Boy chain and her thigh. The car was cold from the window being knocked out and the holes in his jacket let the blistering air against his newly healed skin. His jacket.

“Fuck,” he swore looking at the multitude of holes in it; he could only imagine how much worse the back of it looked.

“What?” She asked him breathless, looking him over.

“My fucking jacket is shot to hell. It took me three fights to save up the money for this!”

She wanted to giggle, but suppressed it again. He went from worrying about who she was and running for his life to worrying about his clothing awfully quick.

“Ah’ll get ya a new one, don’t worry,” she said to appease him.

“You’re going to get me a new one?” He huffed.

“Oh course, now jus’ relax an’ go ta sleep, ya getting’ cranky.”

“How the fuck would you know if I’m getting cranky? Maybe I’m like this all the time.” Her only response was a quick glare. Annoyed that now she evidently decided to be silent, he looked around the car, trying to find something to put over the back window. He twisted and looked behind both the seats for some sort of duffle bag but only found a ‘Rally Tire’ t-shirt.

He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes, something didn’t add up. Not that it surprised him with her. He brought the shirt closer to his face and sniffed it. Bleach and pinewood. A few more sniffs of the air in the car revealed the same smell.

“What tha hell are ya doin’?” He jerked around back into his seat at her voice, making sure to stuff the t-shirt into place first.

Warmth soaked into his shoulder, relaxing the stiff muscles. Involuntarily he turned towards it, stretching his bouldering limbs until his knuckles knocked against the window. Claustrophobia instantly ran through his system and he panicked, the claws coming out as he jerked awake. Expecting to see nothing but dull grey, he was momentarily disoriented by the rocky, blond plains moving in a blur.

“Geez! Nice shootin’, tex!”

The sarcastic voice with the thick drawl brought him back reality. Then he registered the extra weight at the end of this claws. The girl. He turned to look and grunted when it wasn’t her they were run through. Shaking his head he tried to steady his beating heart, two shocked in as many seconds was too much to wake up to.

Wait. Wake up? When the hell had he fallen asleep? His body must have been in worse shape then he thought, because there was no way he’d fallen asleep by choice anywhere near her.

“Ah hoped it at leas’ shocked ya ass,” she hissed, randomly pressing buttons. Tiny sparks sprang up from the exposed blue wires but she didn’t flinch when they landed on her glove. She was alternating between looking at the road and the now completely shattered center console, mumbling so quietly that combined with her accent even he couldn’t pick it up.

He choose to ignore the few choice words he could make out from her ranting but made a mental note to piss her off more often. At least when she was mad she didn’t fucking giggle. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Montana. Itsa emptah as a whore house on Sunday so ah figure ah should be able at see someone comin’. Ya know, like ya not so nice little friends that miss ya so.” She did it. She giggled. That low, unnerving sound grated against his already sensitive nerves.

“Montana? How the hell did you get across the border?” It was fucked up enough that he actually feel asleep with her but there was no way he wouldn’t have woken up crossing the border. The border patrol should have asked for his papers, or searched the car. Something. They don’t just let you try across with the back window shot out waving at you.

“Tha same way ah always do. Ya might as well go back ta sleep, ain’t no place to stop for a while.”

He was not about to trust her that easily. Especially not with the god damn vague answers she kept giving him. They were only slightly less annoying than that fucking giggle. She might not have done anything while he was asleep before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to. Shit, for all he knew she did do something. That thought reminded him and he quickly looked down to the floorboard. A loud sigh of relief came out when he saw the knife still laying there, the blood on it completely dry.

He saw her head snap around to face him from the corner of his eye when he bent down to pick it up. He leveled his eyes with hers, challenging her as he slid it into his boot and then flatten his jean pant over it. When he straightened back in his chair his judging eyes stayed on her, the air in the small space made it feel even more confined, especially compared to their surroundings. She just shocked her head at him and turned back to the road.

“How long have I been asleep?” He ran a mental check over his body. He felt alright, just a little tired and groggy. But it could take hours to effect him if she poisoned him or something…

“Ah dunno, Wolvie, tha clock was on tha radio ya felt tha need at shred ta hell. Probably ‘bout four hours, though.”

“Don’t call me that,” He snarled, his eyes glued to the claws that came out the second the word left her mouth. It didn’t matter that it was grinning, supple lips that it passed through instead of cracked thin ones, it still made it feel like the admantium inside constrict tighter around his bones. And her incessant giggle deformed into cold, high-society laughter in his ears.

She only giggled more, obviously entertained by his reaction. Her face slowly softened as her eyes moved over the claws, then his face. Finally her giggling stopped. “Alright, sugah. No more ‘Wolvie’, whateva ya want. Hell, ah’ll call ya tha King a Peru if ya want.”

“Peru doesn’t have a king.”

“Would ya like to be it?” She looked at him, both their faces completely serious despite the ridiculousness of the conversation.

“No, I wouldn’t. Logan will be fine.”

“Is it because its Peru? If it were England or, ah dunno, Monaco, would ya want tha title then? Oh! Fiji, ya could be tha King a Fiji! That’d be cool.”

He waited for the giggle, but it didn’t come. She was leaning her head against the window, one arm lazily stretched out over the top of the steering wheel. The baby face that had kept him from throwing her to Them last night didn’t look so young or innocent in the harsh morning light, hurting the ’brat’ image he had of her in his head. Well, except for the King of Fiji discussion, that was more than a little juvenile.

“Just Logan.”

“Hmm.. Yeah, ya right. ‘King Logan a Fiji’ is a bit wordy. Though ah’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah? What was the name of the guy you stole this car from?” He hadn’t mean to call her out on it, not now anyway. Not when they were alone in the middle of nowhere. It just slipped from his mouth before his brain could filter it.

“Fuck ya. It’s mah car,” she answered, but her voice was flat and dull.

“The hell it is,” he snapped and reached around behind his seat. “This car doesn’t smell anymore like you than it does me.” He threw the shirt on her lap and still she didn’t look at him or even lift her head off the window. He waited for her to negate the accusation but she sat silent. Well, at least plan ‘piss-her-off-and-kill-the-giggling’ worked.

“Did you at least leave him somewhere decent before you swiped his wheels? Or’d ya just drop him out in the middle of fucking nowhere?” It wasn’t that he gave a shit about the guy, just wondered what his future looked like. Whoever ’Rally Tire’ dude was, he was probably her last ’project’.

Evidently she was unconvinced by his concern for the man, as she remained quiet. Slowly she moved her free hand that wasn’t on the wheel along her hair and moved it off her neck and over her shoulder. He sat stunned watching the movement, his eyes locked onto the contrast of the filthy blue glove on the pristine and pale skin of her neck.

Just behind her hand was a brown smug that he could just make out of from the corner of his eye. Lazily he looked at it then back to her. Suddenly his brain processed the image and his eyes bugged open.

“Buffalo!” His warning came to late and she could only jump in surprise and scream, her foot trying to embed the brake into the floor of the car.






How he could see his surroundings spin without his eyes open was beyond him. Hard surface was beneath him, its tooth edges digging into his skin and kept him from moving. The pain throbbed in his head, the worst definitely was his nose being crushed against his face. He tried to ignore it by concentrating on the sound of his blood pumping and the internal melody of his mutation kicking into overdrive. But then clicking in sets of twos overrode it and he swore in his head.

“Ohmahgawd! Ah am SO sorry!” He felt her hand lay lightly on his back and groaned. Sure, she was sorry. The crazy bitch didn’t even ask if he was alright.

“Didya need help turnin’ over..? Come on, that asphalt can’t smell that good, sugah.” She was cracking jokes? She fucking smashes his brain on the road and then cracks jokes about it?

He waited till he was sure all wounds were closed before turning over onto his backing, groaning loudly. Opening his eyes she completely encompassed his vision. He was momentarily startled by how she looked, kneeled beside him, sunlight beaming from behind her dark flowing hair, it would have been the definition of angelic. If she hadn’t been also biting her lip and obviously trying to fight back her fucking giggles.

He pushed her a little bit away from him to sit up and out of his own blood smeared on the street. His vision blurred and he clenched his eyes shut and willing the churning of his stomach to stop. When he opened them he could see the car a few feet behind her. The front window completely smashed out from his body rocketing through it. But what he did wasn’t nearly as bad as the damage to the nose of the car, it was completely mangled. A large brown mass laid beside it, and he wanted to tell the beast he knew how it felt.

“Is it dead?”

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him, completely confused. When she noticed he was looking behind her, she turned and saw the animal and then faced him again.

“Of course its dead, ya moron. Ah fuckin’ hit it at 120mph! Ya lucky ya ain’t dead too.”

“Not for you tryin’ though, right darlin’?” He hissed at her and forced his body to his feet. He wobbled slightly, the blood inside him still righting itself.

“Hey asswipe!” She jumped up and shoved his shoulder, making his unsteady body wobble even more. “Ah didn’t have nothin’ ta do with it! Ya decided ta not wear a seatbelt all on ya damn own!”

Shaking his head he managed to steady himself, but made sure he was well at arms reached away from her just in case. “Yeah, well, I gotta say, kid. You’re the worst fucking ‘guardian angel’ that’s ever been sent down. Or up in your case.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, her hands landed on her hips. “Maybe ah’m about all ya deserve!”

“Stalin wouldn’t deserve you!”

She snorted, her lips turning up into a smile. “Jus’ get ya ungrateful ass back in tha car. So we can find some fuckin’ civilization.” She turned around before he could answer and made her way back towards the drivers side door. He cringed when she jumped over the carcass of the buffalo, god damn fucking giggling. The girl deserved to be fucking stabbed.

Storming over to her he grabbed her arm before she could shut the door and hauled her out of the car.

“Hey!”

“I’m fucking driving.” He sneered and pushed her out of the way so he could get it. But she stopped the door with her body before he could shut it.

“It’s mah car!”

The claws sprang from the hand on the door. She barely managed to jump back before they went through her stomach. Her eyes went wide and she huffed at him, but he just winked at her and shut the door.

“Cut the crap, we both know it ain’t your car. Now get in before I leave your ass here.” She stuck her tongue out of him and but marched toward the back of the car. He turned the keys in the ignition and let his head fall against the steering wheel in relief. It started.

The other door was loudly shut so hard it shook the now rickety car and he looked over to see her cross her arms over her chest. “Ah don’t see why ah can’t drive.”

He wanted to giggle himself when her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. But he was the Wolverine so he settled for a smirk. “Because, enough things have suffered because of you.”

“So ah killed one damn buffalo! Both windshields and tha radio are completely ya fault!!”

“Ahm starvin’…” she whined, sliding further down into her seat and dramatically clutching her stomach.

“You’ve mention that,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead trying to smooth the scowl his muscles permanently locked into. “Four god damn times.”

“Yeah, well, mah condition hasn’t improved neither!” She pushed his shoulder and he could only shake his head in disbelief. No one ’shoved’ the Wolverine, he didn’t know how to react to it, especially to a girl a third of his size. Her ’condition’ wasn’t hunger, it was being fucking insane.

“Unless you want to eat grass there ain’t shit I can do about it.” One hour. He was starving himself, he just had the decency not to be a whiny brat about it. But one more hour and they’d be at the first town since they’d left Canada.

“Gah!!” She kicked the floorboard of the already beaten car. “How tha hell could there be NO towns? Please tell me there’s some in *this* state.”

“We’re almost to Bowbells now.”

She gawked at him, the corner of her mouth slowly turning up. Panic rushed up in him when he saw her face. It cause his knuckles to turn white from the pressure he gripped the steering wheel. ‘Don’t giggle…don’t giggle..’ he chanted silently to himself.

“Bowbells, North Dakota?” She snorted and he sighed. It was probably the most beautiful sound he ever heard at the moment. “Who tha hell comes up with these names?”

She continued to ramble on about town names or cows or something, he wasn’t really sure. He stopped listening to her after ‘who tha hell..’. It was a talent he applauded himself for learning so quickly, the male population would be proud. Five hours of driving in the car with her across the void that was Montana she very rarely took a breath. At first he told her to shut up. Several times. But she said something about her yapping was his punishment for destroying the radio. Evidently the kid really didn’t like silence. So after the first hour he gave up yelling at her. It only made her yell at him and the more upset she was the thicker her accent got to the point he had no clue what she was saying. And that only intensified his headache.

Just before they made it to the state line he was able to tune her out and he eased a little bit. The sound of her voice blurred into a thick humming noise that soothed his nerves instead of scratching against them. The only thing that broke his peaceful state of mind was her occasional giggling. That's when he silently contemplated how to get that damn giggle box out. As it was the best idea he had was to cut her neck, maybe that would limit the vibrations of the vocal chords...

"Logan!" He had to brace himself to keep from banging into the window when she pushed him again. "Look!"

He snarled at her but followed the line of her covered arm down to the tear in her glove on her finger and finally to a tiny warehouse in the distance.

"So?" He huffed. There were no cars there that he could see, which meant the place probably wasn't open, if it even ever was.

"Read tha sign, sugah. 'Mort's Outdoor Wares and What-Nots'." She giggled, but it was less maniacal and more child-like so it wasn't as much of a fight to keep the claws in.

"Ya ain't got no clothes, Logan. What-nots either."

He grumbled because the last thing he wanted to do was go clothes shopping. It would only increase the time between him and getting food. And with the sort of hits his mutation had to take lately he needed food to recharge. "No, wait till we get to town."

"Ahm not waitin' for shit. Stop tha damn car."

He did not want to stop. He did not want clothes over food. So why the hell was his foot pressing on the brake and the car turning off the road? Subliminal mind control must be part of her mutation. There was no other explanation behind why his body was continuously disobeying him and doing what she wanted.

She patted his hand on the gear shift, smiling at him. He jerked it away, though, as if her gloves were laced with acid as well as dirt. He hoped the reaction would offend her, she was far too friendly for just being some random, psychotic stranger. But she just winked at him and opened her door as soon as the battered car came to a complete stop.

She popped her head back in the car, holding the door open. “Stay here for a sec.”

Narrowing his eyes at her his hand stilled on the door-pull. “Why?”

“Sugah, if you’d stop askin’ me ‘why’ every damn time ya open ya mouth we would save a lota time.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It really was a waste of time and breath, she hadn’t given him a straight answer since he meet her.

So instead of fighting it he just leaned back in his chair. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching her walk across the dirt parking lot. It really was a shame there was no one else around. The moment definitely deserved a catcall. Her hips didn’t just sway in seemingly perfect timing with his heartbeats but the damn girl actually strutted. That was the only way to describe it.




The warning chime echoed in the open space of the store. A leather-hide old man stepped out from behind a set of shelves three times his size.

He stopped right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his grim covered jeans. “Somethin’ I can help you with, sweetheart?”

“Ah jus’ saw this cute little store an’ had ta stop! Kinda out in tha middle of nowhere ain’t ya, sugah?” She smiled at him, playfully biting at her purple painted nail polish.

The action wasn’t lost on him and he fidgeted on his feet. He let out a nervous little laugh, but had to clear his throat first. “I like it just me. Get enough folks comin’ through to pay the bills and what-not.”

“Ain’t ya worried about safety? Here all by yaself?” She asked, gently tugging at the end of his shirt sleeve. “Course, ah bet ya got camera all ova tha place...”

“Nah. Don’t need ‘em. I got Old Betsey behind the counter if there’s any trouble.”

Her head turned and she studied the counter, pursing her lips out.

“So, sweetheart, I--” The old man stopped when her hand moved down from his sleeve and grabbed his arm. He chocked as his dark skin quickly drained to a marble grey, the veins in his arm nearly matching the color of her polish.



The car began to trap the heat of the afternoon sun making the air inside unbelievably hot and stale. He didn’t dare risk leaving it on for the air conditioner; they barely had enough gas to get to town as it was.

He watched the door but couldn’t see anything. What the hell was she doing that he had to sit out there and sweat his ass off?

Just before he was about to leave her (seriously, he was going to) she stepped out of the tainted glass door. With no bags in her hands. He raised an eyebrow at her; since he thought shopping was what she was suppose to be doing in there.

She waved at him, jerking her head at the door and he assumed that meant she wanted him to come in. He sure as hell was not trying anything on if that’s what she had up her sleeve. At least it would be air conditioned in there. Well, hopefully it would be air conditioned.



“Hey, sugah!” She bounced beside him as he slowly shut the door behind him. “Anythin’ ya want, its yours!” She motioned at all the various items piled in the one large room.

But he was not looking at the merchandise around him, only starring at the tiny man lying crumbled on the ground. He stilled, seeing the image in front of him but not processing it. Without his intention his head turned towards the girl like his mind was trying to clear it up for him. And he saw her biting that full bottom lip of hers; idly poking around the store like there was not a man on the floor. Then he was just mad.

“What the fuck did you do that for?!”

She turned around, a red flannel shirt in her hand, “What? Ah think it’ll look good on ya... Damn, if ya don’t like it that much we’ll get tha blue one. Geez.”

“Not the shirt!” He growled, snatching it out of her hands. “What the fuck did you do THAT for?!” His finger was shaking in furry as he pointed at the man. His finger, his arm, even the metal inside of him was hissing from the heat. “Are you trying to attract as much attention to us as possible? I don’t think They need a god damn bread crumb trail to find us! You didn’t have to do that! I HAVE fucking money. Plenty!”

“Well that’s real good, sugah, ‘cuz we’re gonna need it. At places like restaurants, gas stations, motels n’ whateva. Places ah can’t possibly put down all tha people there. So jus’ relax n’ save ya damn money for then an’ pick some stuff out!” She grabbed the shirt back from him with a loud ‘huff’ before storming back into the mountains of shelves, disappearing from his sight.

He shook his head and started towards the racks of jeans in the back. No, there was no way They wouldn’t connect what happened to the ‘What-not’ man here to what happened to their fallen comrades. Shit, why the hell didn’t she just call Them and tell them they’d be in Bowbells in a hour. Like HE wouldn’t be hard to pick out in a crowd of 30 or however many people actually lived there. Or her! For fuck’s sake the girl had two giant white streaks in her hair! That’s liable to stand out in a tiny northern town, he just guessed.

He tore through the jeans, throwing the ones that were too small on the ground while he ranted in his head. He wasn’t sure whose sick joke it was to send her to him but when he found whoever it was the claws were definitely coming out.

Finally finding his size he grabbed all four of them that were there. If they were going to rob the place he might as well go full out. Satisfied he turned to the shelf behind him and eyed it. He didn’t really need shoes; they’d just be more to carry. Then a bright gleam caught his eye, calling to him. Belt buckles. Displayed in all their glory in a beautiful glass case, probably the only clean thing in there.

Running his fingertips along the glass he couldn’t help but notice how much dirtier it was after he touched it. Soil was beginning to build up on him after the fight, running from Them and his multiple wounds, and sweating all day.

He looked down the line, studying them. A goose flying, a Budweiser one, one with a naked chick, a buck, a cross, a stallion, a cabin… He stopped at the next one. A god damn buffalo. He wasn’t sure if that was funny or not. But he soon forgot the buffalo when his dark blue eyes fell on the last one: a snarling wolf head.

The thick bullet proof glass easily shattered under his fist, spraying clear pellets all over the floor.

“Ya alright back there?” Her voice floated back to him but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

“Uhh…fine.” He grunted.

A slow smirk slid onto his face as the damage done to his hand was instantly mended when he touched his prize.


“Damn, took ya long enough.” She watched him lurch up the aisle closer to her. She was at the front of the store, laying stretch out on top of the counter, piles and piles of clothes under her head.

He just grunted and threw the jeans and shirts he had picked out on top of her, nearly burying her in the merchandise.

She giggled that innocent one that somehow didn’t bother him as much, and tucked her arms behind her head. “Ah gotca some undashirts considern’ ya’s is all bloody n’ torn. Sorry, no leatha jackets, nothin’ that nice, jus’ camouflage. Ah didn’t get no undawear ‘cuz ah figured that was a little personal and ya can get ya own. But there’s some here in tha back right corner.”

“Nah, I don’t wear underwear.”

She blinked at him a few times, her mouth in a little ‘o’, before she busted out laughing. “Shut mah mouth an’ call me cornpone! Ya can’t go givin’ me heart attacks like that, sugah. Ah’m too young to die, especially by chokin’ on mah tongue.”

“Let’s just get out of here before someone else comes along,” he glanced at the window and started pulling things off of her, stuffing them under his arm.

She sat up and the shirts that were piled on top of her chest slid down slowly as she did. And she made no move to stop them but he was able to grab them before they hit the ground. “Logan, we’ve been here almost forty-five minutes now an’ ain’t no one come. Relax.”

“I’ll stop asking you why if you stop telling me to relax. How’s that sound, kid?” He offered her his free hand, noticing that she once again had her gloves on. She took it and jumped down of the counter and stepped out of the way so he could collect the undershirts she had been laying on.

“Deal. Ah don’t suppose its mah turn ta drive?” She twisted the material at the end of her gloves, batting her eyelashes at him.

“No. Didn’t they have gloves here?” He asked looking down at her hands. They really were filthy, he wasn’t sure if he even remembered what color they were.

“Oh, yeah, but they were all like wool n’ stuff. These are fine for a while.”

He nodded and adjusted the enormously heavy pile in his hand. “Uh, kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you don’t have any extra clothes either.”

She shrugged, “It ain’t like 'Mort's Outdoor Wares and What-Nots' has a ladies department. Ah’ll just find somethin’ lata.”

She started making her way towards the door and he assumed that was the signal that the discussion was over. He was relieved when he walked past the old man without jumping over him or sticking her tongue out at him or something…

He followed her, just trying to maintain the massive load in his arms. She helped by holding the door open for him but he noted that she made no offer to help carry anything. The exit was tight with his broad shoulders that were made even wider now with his arms outstretched. He tried several different options until he finally managed to squeeze through the door turning sideways, lifting the load a bit.

“Oh! Ah forgot somethin’!” She pushed past him back through the door as soon as he was out of the way.

“Hurry up!” He called behind him and walked back to the car. It was probably about six now and he didn’t know about her but it felt like he hadn’t slept in forever. Not to mention the hunger that was now causing his stomach to eat itself, he was sure. Damn store had shit from duck calls to umbrellas but not one fucking vending machine.

Night fell too quickly over the North Dakotan Mountains. Bowbells was indeed the tiny nothing town he figured it would be. But it had a McDonald’s thankfully, because if she had said ‘Ahm hungry’ one more time he was going to ram some damn McClaws down her throat, something he of course mentioned to her. His own hunger, paranoia, and lack of sleep made him less than patient and understanding.

For a while he was worried they’d be spending more time in Bowbells than he could afford or wanted to. But just as they reached the edge of town a gas station miraculously appeared behind one of the *many* truck storage warehouses.

When he told her gas was four-fifty a gallon he was afraid he was going to have to lock her in the car by the look on her face. For a moment he could tell she was actually deliberating if she could take out each person there. To his relief, though, she let him pay the teller with cash and even thanked him when he bought a couple of bottle waters. Which startled him for a second.

It was about four hours later and they still hadn’t passed another town since. It got dark a lot quicker than he thought it would and he considered driving without the headlights on to stay hidden. But he had a feeling that if he hit a buffalo too not only would the car not be able to take it but he’d never hear the end of it.

The early night did bring one good thing. As soon as the sun fell the girl almost instantly went to sleep. He had to give her credit for lasting that long, since she had less sleep than he had. But mainly he was just glad to have some quiet again.

She always had something to say. Every damn tree, sign, or rock they passed she had a comment for it that made absolutely no sense to him. He wasn’t sure if it was the accent or the culture difference or if it was just because she was not right in the head.

But with her asleep he could finally think. Then he realized he didn’t want to think. Because when he thought he kept asking himself why he was still traveling with her. Why didn’t he just hop out as soon as they were in Bowbells? Or why he was thinking of what ‘they’ would do. Where ‘they’ could stop to sleep. Or if she liked Mexican food or not. Fuck, he was even keeping an eye out for somewhere they could get her new gloves.

Once he realized he was thinking about her god damn gloves he didn’t want to think anymore. Worse more when he stopped himself from thinking about her gloves the next thing that popped into his head was always how angelic she looked sleeping there. The luminous moonlight made her pale skin almost iridescent. And her dark hair that even slightly stuck down to her head with dirt and oil managed to look luscious and soft.

Sooner or later, though, those milky white locks called his attention. Those brands of death reminded him that this was no angel beside him. It was unclear to him how long ago this kid fell off the cloud she was made to sit on but it was definitely a while ago. Death now had a firm grip on her and stripped away all the innocent holiness she should have been worshiped for. Now she was just a crazy kid traveling with a hunted monster and he figured neither one of them had much chance of righteousness anymore.

Well, unless God made a set of twisted angels just for assholes like him that didn’t deserve the real thing. He glanced over at her again and decided that couldn’t be it. Nobody would make that on purpose, even as a sick joke on him.

Again his mind went to her gloves. Maybe they shouldn’t try finding her new ones. Maybe he was just trying to fight the inevitable, that dirty, stained gloves was really what she deserved to wear. Not that he was any better, of course.

Suddenly he was blinded as all the mirrors were flooded with harsh yellow light.

“Fuck!” He swore and squinted, trying to save somewhat of his night vision.

“Lo..an..” She mumbled still half asleep. “What’s goin’ on? Is it mornin’ alr..dy...?”

“No, someone’s behind us,” he answered keeping his eyes on the on the side mirror. “Several someones.”

That woke her up and she shot up straight in her chair. She turned in her seat to look out the back window. Her hair blew around her face from the wind coming through it and she couldn’t see anything but the bright lights. “Can ya tell who it is?”

“No.”

The word was immediately followed by the loud explosions of gunshots surrounded them. As loud as the ruckus was it wasn’t enough to drown out her scream or his swearing.

“I think I know who it is,” He stepped on the gas, pushing the trashed sports car to one-hundred and twenty miles per hour.

“No shit, ser’lock.” She huffed. She sat back in her seat and had to brace her hand against the roof of the car from the speed and his continuously zigzagging across the road.

“I told you!” he yelled. “I told you they’d find us! Because you didn’t just want to fucking pay for clothes!”

“Um, sugah, ah seriously doubt this is mah fault. Whatdaya say we ask ‘em? Hmm?” She snapped back.

He was about to retort when bullets shot off his side mirror and he had to serve to the other side of the road to keep the damage to a minimum.

“We’re fucking screwed! There’s no way to loose them out here!” He could now tell there were only two of them but that was two more than he could handle in this open nothing of North Dakota.

“Oh mah gawd!” Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. “Ah got it!”

He wanted to knock her hand away but couldn’t risk letting go of the shaky wheel. “What? The only thing we’re gonna get is caught!”

She giggled at he swore a nerve in his forehead erupted.

“Jus’ try an’ keep from gettin’ me shot.” She used his shoulder to push up out of her chair and again turn to the back. He turned his head to tell her to sit back down but instead gawked at her rear end in tight jeans bluntly stuck in his face. More gunshots shattering the window on her side snapped him out of it and he swerved again, knocking her around between the seats.

She grunted but made no complaint, which completely shocked him. So he concentrated on the heavily armed beams of light that were quickly growing closer and closer to them. Not only was there no way to loose Them out here but their vehicles were evidently a lot better supped up then the battered, stolen mustang.

When she turned around and sat back in her seat she had something in her hands he did not expect. He didn’t know what it was he was expecting but it definitely wasn’t a shotgun.

“Where the fuck did you get that?!” He looked from the weapon in her hand to the road several times, now a lot more nervous with everyone around him toting firearms.

She giggled but he was so stressed out it didn’t sink into him. “Logan, let me intraduce ya ta Miss Betsy! ...Wait, no that ain’t right... Old! Old Betsy. Yeah, that’s it. Old Betsy.”

Gunshots shot through the open back window and went straight into the front windshield. They both ducked, and the car pulled back to the side of the road when he let go of the wheel to cover his head. He quickly recovered and grabbed the wheel before they completely fell off the side of the road.

He looked down at her girl, who was still ducked and covering her head, her body wrapped around the large gun.

“I’m gonna ask you again, kid, and I want a god damn straight answer. Where the fuck did you get the gun?!”

“Tha old man at tha store. Its what ah went back for,” she answered, though her words were muffled because she talked to the floor.

That eased him a little bit. At least she wasn’t carrying it around the whole time just waiting for the perfect time to kill him. Although, now that he thought about it he guessed she didn’t really need a gun to kill him. “So what are you waiting for? Get rid of the bastards!”

She sat up and turned to face him. “Ah don’t know how to shot a gun!”

“What?!” His head snapped around to her. “Then why’d the fuck did you take it?”

“Because! Ah figured it’d come in handy! And look howdy, it did.”

“God damnit,” he swore and checked the rear view mirror again to see how far away They were. “Fine. Where’s the extra ammunition?”

She blinked at him a few times, gathering her chaotically flying hair in her hand. “What ammunition?? Sugah, ah jus’ grabbed tha damn gun.”

“You took a fucking gun but didn’t think to take any fucking extra ammunition?! You mean you only have two shells??”

“Ah don’t know shit ‘bout guns! Its betta than nothin’ ain’t it?”

“Fuck!” He looked behind him again to remind him to focus his anger and frustration on the shit-heads chasing him and not just releasing the claws on the girl beside him.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Listen to me and listen good, got it?” He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded.

“Good. I’m gonna push my seat all the way back and I want you to climb over into my lap.” He started, grabbing the gun from her and using just his brute strength to steady the jerking wheel with his free hand.

“Sugah, ya fahne as hell n’ all, ah’ll give ya that, but ah don’t think now is tha time for--”

“Shut the hell up and just listening to me,” he snapped at her.

“Fahne, geez.” She put one leg over the center console trying to keep herself from grabbing the steering wheel for balance.

He held the gun as far back as he could. Watching her stretch out towards him the comment she made finally registered in his brain and he decided he better clear that up now. “Facing the wheel, kid.”

“Ah know,” she rolled her eyes and finally got across the car without getting shot and moved down onto his lap.
Just after she got over a high pitched whistling flooded the inside of the car followed by muffled ‘puft’ noises from the bullets riddling through the passenger’s seat before embedding in the glove compartment. The two looked at each other, wide eyes on both their faces.

“Go..good plan, sugah,” she giggled nervously.

“Yep. Alright, take the wheel.” He instructed. As soon as she had her gloved hands wrapped around the leather bound wheel he moved his hand off it and onto her waist.

“Okay. I’m gonna take my foot off the gas and you better have yours on in half a fucking second, you got that?” He waited for her to nod. “On three, okay? One...two...three!!”

He moved his foot off the pedal and the car lurched back hard from the loss of momentum, tailing off closer to vehicles chasing them. She screamed along with the tires and he yelled at her about the damn pedal. Galvanized she slammed her foot down over it, forcing it to the tattered carpet floor. The sudden increase of the speed made the car spin over its own tires for a second but she managed to keep it under control until it once again got a grip on the asphalt.

Shaking his head he opened the gun. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching him and he snapped at her to keep her eyes on the fucking road. He thanked whatever deity that sent this crazy chick to him at least had the gun was loaded and took one of the shell out of the barrel.

“Here, hold this,” he dropped the extra red shell into her hand. If it was even possible her pale skin whitened more. He locked the gun closed again.

“Don’t. Move.” He spelled out in her ear. He moved the gun in front of her body to switch it to his other hand. Pulling the leaver on the side of the chair he let the seat slid all the way back and pushed against her lower back until she got the message and scooted up to the very edge of the seat.

With the extra room he moved as far back into the seat as he could and lifted his leg out from under the steering console. He planted his foot over the ruined radio and cup holders, using it as leverage to push off of and turn his body towards the window. There was no extra space in the tiny confines and his massive shoulders shoved her upper body practically on top of the steering wheel but she was able to keep her bottom on the seat.

With only the two shells there was absolutely no room for error, he had to make perfect shots. And out of all the things he was good at, this wasn’t one of them. He never needed guns. Hell, the last time he could even remember holding a damn gun was during WWII and that was a fucking long time ago. It wasn’t exactly still sharp in his mind, either. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

Leaning out the window he managed to get the gun, his head, and his shoulders out until her body blocked him from leaning any further. The bright headlights of the oncoming vehicles blinded him for a second but once his eyes adjusted they needed up helping. They lit where he wanted to aim for him and with his shot lined up he pulled the trigger.

The backlash on the shotgun was stronger than he expected and ended up making his elbow jerked back, colliding hard into the side of the girl’s head. She yelped in pain and her whole upper body went flying down and to the right from the force, taking the car with it.

He steadied himself as the car lurched but was too distracted by the explosion caused by the bullet going into their engine to worry about her. He had hoped that it would take the second car out as well, but the tank-like SUV served out of the way, barely missing the wreck.

Turning his head he looked in the car and her head was still down, facing away from him, even though the car amazingly stopped drifting. “Hey, kid, you still with me?”

Another minute went by before she finally lifted her head up and he was meet with tear-filled eyes that he could tell she was trying her damnest to fight. He had to give her credit, even if she did stay conscious an elbow laced with indestructible metal to the head could not feel very good.

“Can you hand me the other shell?” He opened up his hand but there was no expression on her face and her eyes seemed to look past him, starring off into the distance.

“Come on, darlin’,” he reminded himself not to yell. “The other shell, were you able to keep ahold of it?”

She nodded, the action made the trap tears finally escape and roll down her face. He wanted to apologize to her or something, but they didn’t have time for him to feel sorry for her.

“Give it to me.” He repeated although in her state he was really sure he wanted her to take either hand off of the wheel. A small, shaky gloved hand dropped the other shell into his palm before returning to its post and he sighed in relief.

He slipped the shell into the empty barrel and locked the gun shut again. As soon as he leaned out of the window bullets scorched past the side of the car. Several ripped through the skin on his forearm before he could duck back in. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized in his quick jerking he knocked her into the steering wheel again. But she made no sound and the car kept moving so he didn’t worry about it.

When the burning in his arms stopped he knew he was healed and he leaned out the window again. He didn’t want to wait and give Them a chance to get anymore close shots in this time around so he immediately pulled the trigger, although he remember to lower his elbow and brace himself before he did.

They were able to dodge his second shot; either that or he just missed its target of the center grill. Luckily even with Their veering the bullet went through Their front tire. It busted with a loud pop as all the pressure rushed out of it. The instantly deflated tire caused Them to spin completely around before the heavy, square SUV finally fell over on its side. They probably were still alive but he was satisfied. It would at least buy the some more time to pack distance between them.

He threw the gun down onto the road. Instead of watching it bounce and shatter he turned back into the car. Reaching down he pulled the side lever and pushed the seat up while wrapping and arm around her waist and hauling her onto his lap at the same time. She let him and made no move or sounds what so ever.

“Hey, kid...I mean...um...Rogue. You alright?”

Again no response came from her, not even a nod. Slight panic began to grow in him and he considered the possibility she wasn’t really conscious at all. That maybe her body was just running on autopilot or something from the adrenaline. If that was the case he wanted her hands off the steering wheel. Now. It could startle her if he just took it from her, though, and fuck knows she could send them flying off the road.

Slowly he wrapped one hand beside hers around the wheel while keeping the other one around her waist. “It’s alright, darlin’. You can let go now, I got it.” He said as softly as he could, although it came out as more of a growl.

Her hands obeyed and fell limply to her lap but her foot remained pressed down hard on the pedal. Deciding it was best not to push her he just eased his foot onto the corner of it and slowly moved it over until he was able to shoved hers all the way off.

A few seconds went by and it felt like an eternity of silence to him. He tried to look at her face go see if she still had that vacant, distant look in her eyes but her hair blowing around both of them made it impossible. He gathered her wild hair the best he could with one hand and pushed the massive bulk over her left shoulder.

“Shit.” When he could see her face he was greeted by a thin trail of blood slowly coming from the purple and blue split skin at her temple. He was no doctor but a gash like that meant she had to have at least a concussion, if not much worse.

He pulled her back until her body was flush against his, tightening his grip on her to steady her flaccid body. A quick glance to the review mirror, one of the very few parts still unmarred on the car, revealed nothing but peaceful nothing behind them. At least They hadn’t been able to call the cavalry in on them. So they’d would make it through another night. Well, he would at any rate.

Suddenly her head fell back against his shoulder and his hand around her waist immediately came up, keeping it from rolling off. He looked down at her face and her eyes were half closed. Her hooded eyelashes were weighted down with the tears that were now mingling with the blood, thinning it out and make it slid easier down her cheek.

“Fuck, come on.” His hand returned to her waist and he tried to make her seat up a little bit more but she barely budged. He nudged her head with his shoulder but it only just rolled over to the other side of her face.

“Stay with me, darlin’. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to wait an hour or something before falling asleep with a concussion.” He wasn’t real sure that the medical advice was true or not, he never needed any. But it sounded like something he had heard in the ring before.

When he checked down at her face again her eyes were completely closed and he seriously began to worry. What the fuck kind of place do you go after you die if you fucking kill your own ‘guardian angel’? He really didn’t want to find out.

Then a soft mumbling voice reached his ear. “What was that?”

“Ya..touchin’ me. Ah..don..like ta be…touched,” she stuttered through so quietly he wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been right by his ear.

“I ain’t touching you, darlin’, just relax. But you have to promise to stay awake for a little while longer, okay?” He was slightly reassured by the sound of her voice but glancing to her from the road revealed her eyes were still softly closed, which was not staying awake.

“Just give me an hour, kid. Then I’ll get you a nice soft bed and a warm shower, we got a deal?”

“Ah ain’t tha one that smells…” she whispered even softer but he took the small victory. Evidently she still had enough brain function to give him lip. That had to be a good sign.

It was a drawl on what shocked her into consciousness. Her mind registered the massive boom first, but the world shaking under her could have very well done it too. She spewed what to her was the lewdest curses she knew at whoever it was but it translated into a mumbled incoherent groan.

“You’re not in a coma. Good. Get up.”

Ah, the loud individual had a voice now. A booming voice that she tried to swear at again but just became more frustrated that it wasn’t coming out of her mouth in the desired words. Or any words for that matter.

“Move it, darlin’. I’d say twelve hours is more than enough beauty sleep.”

Twelve hours?! It takes exactly fifteen minutes to mobilize an armed unit and another four hours to find anybody, anywhere. Twelve was unacceptable. The demented freak should have been thrown back into his cage by now, no excuses.

The sudden military information flooding her head brought the face that matched the mean, loud voice to focus to her mind. She tried to sit up but someone must have filled her head with lead because it was nearly too much for her delicate neck to handle. To make it harder the softness under her cheek refused to relinquish its hold on her. If she tried to lift up an inch, it followed her, adding even more weight to the balloon attached to her.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, kid.”

Suddenly a cold shock hit her feet and the chill came all the way up to her knees.

“Fuck ya,” she managed the actual words, though they were weak and jumbled. Gathering all her strength together she pushed her body up, away from the softness. Momentarily confused she looked down at where her head had laid. It didn’t make any sense; there was nothing soft in the mustang. Once the dizziness stilled and the nausea snuck down to a more acceptable level in her stomach she opened her eyes. The first thought that came to her was how the hell did he manage to get a bid ol’ bed in the car?

Slowly the room around her went from dancing and fuzzy to still and solid. Except for her partner, who with the pace he was walking back and forth in front of her was making the nausea harder and harder to control.

She had to get him out of her sight before it was too late and looked down to the bed instead. She narrowed her eyes at the stain on the pillow. Slowly she pulled off one of her gloves and lightly touched the side of her jaw. Well that explained why she stuck to the pillow case.

“Um, sugah, why tha hell am ah bleedin’?”

He finally stopped moving and looked at her. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head and quickly regretted when the world seemed to go upside down around her.

“You hit your head,” he answered her and went back to his pacing around the room.

“Oh what?” she huffed, noticing the sticky path went all the way down the side of her face and her neck. “A god damn cement block?”

“Does it matter? Just get the fuck out of the bed; we’ve been here too long as it is.”

Ignoring him, she looked down at her shirt and sure enough the path extended all the way down, making an obvious blotch on her chest. “Ack! Ya jus’ let me bleed all ova mah self all night?!”

“You don’t like to me touched,” he reminded her as he came out of the bathroom, shoving tiny little bottles into a bag.

“Well ah can’t exactly walk around like this either, can ah? Ya gonna give me one of ya shirts to wear?” She began crawling slowly towards the end of the massively large bed. She didn’t remember what happened last night but she was slightly unnerved about why she would deserve a big, soft mattress.

He turned around and dug in one of the many bags he had lying by the heavily bolted door. Biting her lip, her head tilted slightly as she studied. For the life of her she could come up with nothing but pure talent. How else could someone bend over in jeans that tight?

When he straighten up and turned around her barely had enough time to react when a white ball came flying at her.

“Here, you can wear this,” he grunted.

She unwrapped the white mass to be met by a giant tire with screech marks and flamboyant red lettering spelling out ‘Rally Tire’.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he wanted out of her when he gave her the shirt. Wide-eyes, guilty looking frown, something like that. Not a damn coy little smirk. He was annoyed by it, but maybe it was too much for him to expect a conscience from her when he had none. Scratch that, he had one. There was no way he’d wear a shirt with pride of a man he killed. Not that he *knew* she killed him, of course.

“Do ah get a shower or jus’ a splash on the face?” She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. The innocent expression made an interesting dichotomy to the bright maroon dried blood smeared all the way down her face. He had to fight a smile himself; it took quite a woman to pull that off. And blood smeared innocence looked perfect on her.

“Ya,” he relented, turning away from her. After all, he did promise, just because she couldn’t remember didn’t change that. “Just hurry up. Ten minutes then I’m leaving you.”

She winked at him and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet dangling a good foot away from the floor. With a quick little hop the distance was made up. She stood there as the room spun around her and suddenly flipped. Before she could move to make it stop pain shot into her knees and crushed fabric was under her palms.

“Shit, you okay?” He kneeled down beside her, wrapping a hand around her upper arm.

With him supporting her weight she lifted her other hand up and pushed it onto her forehead, trying to still the movement around her. “Yeah..yeah, ahm fine. Jus’ got up a bit fast, ah guess. Hell, ah hope whateva ah drank last night ah had a good time.”

He pulled her up by her arm and held her while she wavered again on her feet. “You sure you can make it?”

“Sugah, ah ain’t eva sure of anythin’,” she giggled and pulled away from him slightly, carefully testing her weight.

He shook his head and let go of her. Another one of her damn twisted answers. He didn’t understand what was so hard about it. Someone asks you what’s two plus two you answer ‘four’, not ‘what would you like two plus two to be’, or something fucked up like that. It doesn’t matter what you want it to be, it’s just four, get over it.

“Okay,” she sighed, smiling at him. “As easy as Appalachian moonshine, right?” She took the first step carefully, both of them watching her feet. When the next three steps were successful as well he was comfortable with getting out of her shadow.

He grabbed the first few bags at the door to take them to the car when something tumbled out of one of them. Picking up the plastic bag filled with the nearly the entire contents of the bathroom he called to her. She stopping in the doorway and turned around.

“You might need some of this,” he tossed it to her. The small bag fumbled in her grasp before finally falling to her feet.

She bent down and snatched it up. “Can’t walk in a god damn straight line an’ he keeps thrown’ shit at me.”

“Hey, less bitchin’ more movin’,” he interrupted her mumbling.

She straightened up and the nausea in her stomach sprang to her head again, making her grab the doorjamb to keep from falling over. Waiting a minute she gave him a “bite me, asshole” before slamming the door shut.



Twenty minutes later the car was completely loaded and he was outside leaning against the balcony railing, fuming and puffing away at a cigar. As he figured it there were two possibilities. Either she fell down again and busted her head against the toilet or something. Or she was purposely trying to piss him off. He hoped for her health she was passed out and bleeding on the floor.

Everything was just some sick fucking game to her and here he was more of a nervous mess with each passing second. It already was taking all his concentration to keep the claws in and not spring at each shut of a car door by one motel go-er or another. He could feel the metal inside him, slightly vibrating in anticipation. The cigar helped, always did. It soothed over those glass sharp nervous and reflexes. Hell, it probably saved more than a few dumb fuckers that tried to come up to him at the wrong time over the years. But he wasn’t sure anything could save his ‘angel’ at this point if she came out of there whistling Dixie or some shit like that

Another five minutes went passed as his cigar was long gone. Just as he was about to storm in a flash some claws at her for motivation the door opened and honey and cinnamon invaded his senses before his eyes even saw her. He sighed, somehow slightly more in peace. It seemed like it had been forever since he smelled that. At first it was a welcomed change to gunpowder, now it was so much better than the irony blood and clay dirt that he’d smelled for him was way too long.

“Hey, sugah, ya ready?” Her hair was wet and pulled tightly back, the two streaks making a white skunk stripes across the top of her head. She smiled big at him, oh so innocent. And the ends of the too big for her white t-shirt was tied in a knot around her waist, a sign against that for which only he would understand. Well, maybe him and another dude, assuming again he wasn’t dead somewhere.

“Am I ready?! I told you ten minutes. What the fuck part of ten minutes don’t you get?” he growled, snatching the small and much lighter zip-lock bag out of her hand.

He was half way down the stairs before she could open her mouth. She ran after him, making sure to have a hold on the railing the whole time. “Ahm sorry! Ah had a lota disinfectin’ ta do. There was mah head, which ya gonna have ta tell me that story sometime. Then mah arm where that bullet cut me. Ah had a nasty one on mah knee, ah figure from when ah hit tha buffalo..... Wait, where tha fuck are ya goin’? Where’s tha car?”

She stopped her rambling to notice he was walking no where near a busted candy apple mustang. In fact, glancing around the parking lot it was no where in sight.

“I got us a new car,” He answered without turning back to her. When he stopped and took a set of keys out of pocket she felt very sick again.

He opened the back door to a rusted up, dark silver pick-up with a chipped incomplete blue stripe down the side. On top of the horrible nineteen seventies monstrosity was an even older camper, whose yellow paint job was clashing in near obscenity to the truck it was attached to.

“Ya paid for this piece a shit?” She gawked.

“No,” was his only answer as he made his way to the driver’s side door. He opened it and everyone within a mile knew about it from the loud, moaning hinges.

She gave the big machine one more long look before rolling her eyes and moving to open the passenger door. The obnoxiously loud groan wasn’t a surprise and she took her time opening it, leveling her eyes with his as she played it out as long as it could muster the noise.

“Just get in,” he snapped at her.

Her reply was a loud ‘huff’ but she obeyed and jumped into the car. She pulled the door shut, then again a second time, and finally the third time it remained closed.

“Oh, nice,” she rolled her eyes. “Ya stole this?? Ya could have any car for free and ya stole *this*??”

He ignored her and turned the key to start the car. It coughed and puttered and she matched it with sound effects of her own, for which he shot her a dirty look. But she just smirked at him and went on coughing each time the engine did, with that evil little smile on her face.

Finally it roared to life with a loud ‘boom’ that made both of them jump. He let it run for a second and it slowly calmed down, until it practically purred.

“Ya did a big favor for whateva overall wearin’ bugger ya stole this from, sugah.” She turned around and eyed the back, into the camper. Groaning at the sight she turned back around. “Ah’ve neva seen a bigga waste of ceran wrap mah entire life. That is what this is made out a, right? Used ceran wrap?”

“Listen,” he pulled out another cigar from his mutilated jacket. His nerves were beginning to shake again as the care pulled away from the motel. “The mustang was tore to shit and They know what it looks like now. This gets better gas then the mustang, plus I put five gallons in the back so we won’t have to stop for a while. And some food and shit, so we don’t have to stop for that. And I figured one of us could sleep back there while the other one drives, put some real distance between us and Them.”

“Sleep back there? With the *five* gallons of gasoline?” She gawked at him.

He turned his head away from the road to look at her. “You could get out right here. No one’s making you come,” he answered her. The words seemed like he was concerned for her or some shit, giving her a way out. But there was a distinctive challenge in his voice, one she did not miss.

She giggled and leaned further back into her seat. The noise, the ban of his existence, was too much for his nerves and the claws sprang free. Luckily they did no damage to the car, but he was slightly disappointed that the girl didn’t even jump.

“Sugah, ya got five god damn cans of gasoline in tha back of a highly flammable piece a shit and ya smoke like a chimney. Not ta mention ah *seriously* doubt ya gonna be out runnin’ anybody in this. Ya need a guardian angel now more than eva.”

They drove in silence for a little while after that. Mainly because he couldn’t argue with it, and if she was the only one willingly to take the job then maybe he just had to accept that. When he looked over to her again and she was already half asleep, her hands clasped together protecting her head from the window.

“Logan. This isn’t a good idea, sugah.” She glanced around the fog-ridden bar, not that she could really see anything. Not with the only lights in the place being pointed at the massive steal cage sunken in the middle of the room and his wide back blocking any view in front of her.

“I never said it was,” he threw back over his shoulder to her, his brow now permanently locked in a scowl. “Just don’t wander.”

He wasn’t sure why he was warning her. After all, he met her outside a fight bar, so she probably knew the ropes. But the Minot Nightmare wasn’t a typical country fighting bar. He’d only been there one other time himself. It was the only place that They weren’t waiting outside for him afterwards.

But sometime while he was aimlessly wondering around the motel waiting for the girl to decide to live it woke up in him again. The room, the car, they all starting to feel more and more like cages, trapping him. He could feel the animal in him, making the claws restless inside his arms, trying to force them out while he fought to keep them in. The beast cursed him for running, not fighting, the loud crack of it snapping its teeth together echoed inside his head along with a muffled chant he knew only by his anxiety meant kill.

When the Wolverine’s bloodlust boiled over Logan became terrified for the girl, Rogue, that was her name. They were still three hundred and sixty miles outside of Minot and he was quickly losing control of the beast. The car was trapping him too much, it was more open than the mustang but it hadn’t seemed to help. The claustrophobia increased with the animal’s control and the girl was the only one within miles.

All he could think about was how easy prey she was. Lying there asleep, all her defenses down. It would be nothing. He could run her through and she’d be dead before she could even scream. But what surprised him was that those thoughts came from him, not the animal. Wolverine didn’t seem to have a problem with her. He didn’t like that she forbids being touch, the animal didn’t understand that. But she was not the answer to his aggression. Wolverine reminded him it was man that was chasing him, wanted to impression him, and it was man that had to suffer the consequences.

So he did nearly ninety on the abandoned North Dakotan highway until he got to Minot. It didn’t take him long on the road to find out fight bars were the only place he could beat countless fuckers to bloody pulps without someone jumping on his back or asking questions. Hell, they fucking paid him for it.

The bookie was easy to spot. Sitting in the corner, a chick with huge breasts and a few pathetically hidden hundred years under her belt on his arm, and some stumbling drunk idiot handing him a fist full of money, the usually characteristics.

He strode up to him, pushing the others out of the way so they knew ahead of time who the alpha male was. Humans aren’t that far removed from the animal kingdom because they could tell and let him pass. They usually relented easily; they weren’t as bold on the floor as they were in the cage for some reason.

What surprised him was that the girl came out from behind him. She stood at his side, on hand on her jutted out hip and a scowl across her brow rivaling his own. Her other hand, though, was tightly curled into the side of his jacket. He could even feel the gloved tips of her fingers as they poked though the knife hole and grazed against his side.

“You here for the fights?” The bookie’s sick and chalky voice snaked out. The question was asked although everyone there knew the answer. There was no other reason to be in the hell-hole.

He snarled back a ‘yeah’ and tried to ignore that leering blonde, who now that he was closer made even him feel young.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Wolverine,” he growled honesty. The Wolverine was now more in control than he was, sensing that they were in his territory. A quick, wavering fear hit his nose almost instantly and he almost purred from it. It was the perfect cure for his alpha ego. He looked forward to wallow in it the rest of the night.

“This what you’re betting?” His beady charcoal eyes racked down the girl, indifference set in them.

Before he could answer him the tiny hand in his jacket twisted the material even tighter. If it had been any other girl he would have taken it as a sign of fear. But she never smelled afraid, nervous, frustrated and worried sometimes, but never afraid. And the fact that the hand twisted so that now four little knuckles were digging sharply into his side also hinted otherwise. It was probably suppose to be her way to warn him to not even think about it but the scowl on her face never faltered. He had to admit, he was a little proud.

“No. Just cash.”

The man nodded, obviously could care less what went on. “Its four hundred per bet minimum, two hundred to play.”

He was slightly put back at the six hundred floor. The prices really hiked since the last time he came through here. All these dumb fuckers in this shit-hole had that kind of money? Crime was certainly paying better than it did a year ago.

Moving to his jacket he had to pry her hand away to get into his pocket. He grinned when it immediately moved to his shoulder. For not liking to be touched she certainly did a lot of touching. Not that he was giving himself credit. She probably just wanted everyone to see she was with him. And had she just come out and said she wanted protection he would have beefed up the performance or something. Stubborn little brat.

He pulled out his entire wad of cash and could see out of the corner of his eye the blonde nearly drowning in her own drool. Counting out the six hundred he tossed to it to him, not wanting to make actual contact.

“You want to bet on yourself?”

Why was he not surprised the damn fights were rigged? Well he had a nasty surprise for whatever asshole they all had picked was his turn to win tonight. Because none of them were leaving with all their bones intact, let alone the money.

“Yeah.”

“Fine. You’re up the fifth fight; they should go pretty quick tonight. First round starts at eight.”

Fifth god damn fight?! At least an hour of drunkards falling all over him and trying to bum a fucking light? Half the bar could be dead by then. “How much to make me first?”

The bookie shuffled through the cash, evidently just moving his hands and not really counting. After some deliberation he made the most annoying licking noise as he moved his tongue across his front teeth. “For another six I might be able to shift some guys around.”

Beside him the girl let out a quiet huff that only he could possibly hear, but otherwise remained silent during the entire transaction. With her track record she probably didn’t think these losers’ lives were worth another six hundred dollars. And they weren’t from what he saw walking in, but it’s not like it really mattered. He was going to get it all back and more of the end of the night anyway.

He settled the amount with the bookie and rested the urge to spit on the blonde as he turned away. The girl dropped her hand off him but followed behind him again, still silent. That was until the second he sat down at the bar.

“Beer.”

“Have ya fuckin’ lost it?” She hissed at him in a hushed tone as soon as the bartender turned around.

He kept the pattern, seemingly ignoring her until the open beer was in front of him and the bartender was somewhere down near the other end.

Taking a long drag from the bottle he let it run slowly down his throat, concentrating on the cooling effect instead of the growing noise around him. Finally with half the bottle drained he set it down. “No, but I’m getting close.”

“Ah thought tha whole point a havin’ a fuckin’ liquid time bomb in tha back of tha camper was so we wouldn’t have ta stop. Isn’t that tha shit ya’ve been feedin’ me tha whole time? Stoppin’ meant gettin’ caught?”

“You don’t understand, kid.” He shook his head, emptying the rest of the bottle and waving it at the bartender. “If I don’t do this... fuck, I have to do this. I don’t have a fucking choice.”

A new bottle arrived and he reached for it but it was snatched by a gloved hand before he could get there. He could only watch in mild shock as she lifted it to her lips, watching her throat constrict as the liquid moved down it.

Satisfied she wiped her gloved forearm across her mouth, then quickly licked her bottom lip. “Ya don’t have a choice?” She raised a eyebrow at him, “Jus’ cuz ya a little antsy ya gonna risk ya damn life?”

He snatched the bottle back away from her. “I’m more than ‘just a little antsy’, darlin’. I thought about killing you in the car. Did you know that? While you were asleep. Thought about putting my claws through that pretty little chest of yours.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he hoped he’d finally get to smell fear off her. Even Wolverine was excited by the prospect of that beautiful aroma that she’d kept elusive from them.
But he didn’t get it, he didn’t finally win. Her corner of her mouth turned up into a little smile and then she just fucking giggled. “Jus’ that one time? Damn, sugah, ya like me a lot more than ah that ya did then.”

“Listen, kid. All the running, Wolverine see it as having my tail between my legs, don’t make him very happy. It’s better I let him take the fight out on these dumbasses then do something stupid like take on the whole damn government. Don’t matter how angry the beast is, I can’t beat ‘em on my own.” He sighed, starring into the pissed color liquid n the bottle.

She settled onto the stool beside him, leaning her back against the bar so she was facing him. “Ya ain’t on ya own anymore, though. Ah meant it, sugah, when ah said ah’d keep tha big bad hunter from gettin’ ya.”

He snorted, lifting the bottle to his lips again. “Yeah, well, he ain’t real happy with the idea of being protected by a little girl neither.”

“Fine,” she signed and jumped up quickly. “Gimme ya jacket.”

Narrowing his eyes he turned around in his seat toward her. “Why?”

“What did ah say about tha ‘why’ thing? Jus’ give me tha damn jacket.”

Again his body obeyed her instead of himself. He shrugged the jacket off and handed it over to her. As soon as it was in her clutch she dug into the inside pocket and for the wad of money.

“Is ah-hundred enough for whateva ya boozin’ for tha night?” She asked, her attention on the cash she shifted through her hands.

He wanted to tell her to get her damn hands off his money but instead he nodded, half expected the Wolverine to snap for being placid with her. But he remained silent as well.

“Good,” she nodded. She handed him a folded packed of money, which he assume was the one hundred. She finally had his attention when she slipped her arms into the jacket, letting it swallow her up. He jumped to his feet right as she pulled the keys out of it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he snapped.

“There’s a little town south a here called Logan, ain’t that cool? Looked maybe fifteen minutes away on tha map. Ah wanna go check it out, buy me some clothes an’ stuff. How long ya gonna need here, ‘bout three hours?”

He blinked at her a few times slightly put off by how crystal clear and carefree her green eyes were, like she was just telling him she was going to the bathroom or something.

“You think I’m just gonna to let you take my truck and leave without me? With all my damn money? Kid, you must have gotten some brain damage after all,” he huffed, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

“What? Ya said ya had to do this so ahm lettin’ ya. Ah figured while ya here ah can go get this done so we won’t have ta stop for that.” She looked behind her; the crowd was getting thicker in around the cage and more restless for action. “Besides, what tha hell am ah gonna do here? Get hit on an’ groped by these morons while ah wait for ya? No thanks.”

She had a point about that. For a girl who didn’t like to be touched sitting around in a bar for a few hours was not the best way to go about it. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it he would probably be looking out for her the entire time, which would just be a distraction. And he was sick of those nasty blue gloves...

“Fine,” he grunted. And she immediately broke out into a grin. “But let’s get things straight. You aren’t ‘letting’ me do shit, got that, kid?”

She nodded, a big grin still on her face.

“Do not use you powers to ‘shop’,” he went on. “And do not spend all my fucking money. Bare essentials only. Do not purposely run the truck into a tree or otherwise intentionally damage it. And your ass better be back here at nine-thirty, got that? That’s two hours. I swear kid, a minute later and I will hunt you down. We clear?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, daddy.”

“Safe that shit for the bedroom, darlin’.”

A loud crash of glass sounded from behind the bar. The bartender tried to cough to cover it up, but he had everyone’s full attention. He turned away and nearly fled to the back, his face bright crimson.

She started giggle and bit her bottom lip. “Logan, that was ya first joke! Ah think ya ‘bout gave that poor pudgy little man a heart attack, though.”

He turned around and couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the still violently blushing man sweep up his mess. When was the last time he smiled? He could still feel the Wolverine pacing, but it seemed he fed off sexual tension just as easily as he did aggression.

“Who said anything about a joke?” The words left his mouth before checking with his brain first but when those pouty lips of hers formed that little ‘o’ it was worth it. Her silence was validating and he swore at all the smoke and cheap cologne and perfume in the room that was blocking him from being able to smell her.

“Well, um,” she still giggled again, but this time was looking at her feet. “Ah guess ah betta get goin’. Only havin’ three hours an’ all.” She flashed him another grin then turned around bouncing towards the door.

He watched her go, pony tail bouncing and his jacket nearly reaching her knees. Suddenly he realized how big of a mistake he could be making. He didn’t even completely trust himself and now he was giving his keys and nearly all his money to a girl he’d know for a few days and was completely insane.

“Wait,” he quickly grabbed her elbow before she could get any farther away. “Two hours! Damnit, kid, I’m not screwing around with you! Two hours!!”

“Rahght. Two hours. That’s what ah said. Ya gotta learn ta trust me, sugah. Ahm on ya side, whateva side ya on, kay?”

He stepped in closer, bringing his nose to her neck. She flinched and stepped back, but he got enough of her scent to tell she really believed what she was saying. It didn’t mean it was true and she wouldn’t screw him over in the end. But at least right now, this very moment, she thought she was with him.

He wasn’t a really trusting person, though, so all he could do was nod, just to appease her. And it seemed to work, the seriousness left her face and she giggled again and he noted he’d have to remember that noise for fuel in the fights.
“Alright, ah’ll be back in a bit. Give ‘em a good ole Mississippi stomp kick for me.” She gave him a quick wink and then disappeared nearly instantly in the now pack crowd of the bar.


*******

The bookie was right; the fights were going awfully damn quickly. He had to about fuck himself over just to keep a good appearance. The goal was to bleed as much as possible, people didn’t ask so many questions that way. Blood stayed on the skin, stuck in sweat, well after the cuts had healed. So he did things like putting his face straight into their punches or never blocked the brass knuckles that rednecks seemed to like to much.

He always let them get a few good shots in. The pain actually soothed the beast, or perhaps wore him out quicker, whichever way you wanted to look at it.

And the newest fucker when straight for the downstairs kick.

He hit the cement floor of the cage hard, snarling in pain. The heavy mohawked man sashayed over to him, laughing and waving at the crowd, who was now loudly cheering. Usually he gave them a minimum of two good hits, but this asshole had made the wrong first one.

When Mohawk’s foot came down to stomp him further to the mat, he quickly turn, grabbing the muddy monstrosity. A sharp twist of his wrist and the sweat ‘crack’ of the man’s ankle breaking flowed into his ears followed by the even better high-pitched scream.

Logan as on his feet before the other man hit the ground. He smirked down at him, crying and rolling around, clutching his ankle. Wasn’t such a tough son of a bitch now, was he?

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the announcer starting to get up, probably to call the match, which meant he didn’t have a lot of time left to teach mo-head a lesson.

He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t stay, of course, and tried to buckle with a little whimper but Logan held him up. The other man made no noise when an adamantium fist collided with his nose. Cartilage just didn’t have the same satisfying sound as bone did when it shattered.

Just as the announcer had the door open he grabbed the whining man’s shoulders and bent him over his thigh, ramming his knee into the man’s groin. He let the dead weight fall to the floor, the metal bars of the cage shook from the impact.

Glancing down at his chest he was very glad he kept his undershirt on. It was now clammy and stuck to his skin from not only his own sweat but now the blood that was freely flowing out of Mohawk’s nose. Further inspection revealed clear spit or bile on the pant leg of his jeans and he cringed. He got in one final kick to the man’s ribs before the tiny announcer man ran up and grabbed his arm, declaring him winner.

“Wolverine, ladies and gentleman. Your round two winner! Let’s see some fire boys! You ain’t gonna let this outsider take your money are you?!!”

Jerking his arm away from the announcer he returned to his vodka bottle he had set up in the corner of the cage after the first round. Behind him four guys came in to drag Mohawk away, leaving a trail of blood on the cement as they went. The crowd booed and hissed but it was hard to hear over the vodka worming its way through his system. Eight fights down and at least him and the beast were on a level playing field, hopefully by the end of the night it would be satisfied enough to give him complete control.

Suddenly his system locked up and the bottle was out of his hand and shattered in pieces on the cage floor. His nose twitched in time with the claws buried beneath his muscles and the heart inside his chest. He was trapped, caged, and could smell gun powder.

She jarred the handle on the door but it still refused to release her. As she struggled with it curses spewed out of her mouth in a seemingly unrecognizable language. Namely pissed as hell southern.

“Lord n’ heaven, ah swear if ya don’t—ugh.” Finally under the force of her shoulder the door relented and she came tumbling out. Straightening herself, she narrowed her eyes at the car, challenging it, as if she was daring it to laugh at her.

The car remained silent, feigning innocence, which only served to aggravate her more. She slammed the door shut and added two more kicks into the side, punishing it.

Her aggression towards the large collection of metal slowly morphed into something more brumous the closer she got to the entrance of The Nightmare. The air around her was completely still but a chill went up her spine never-the-less. Shaking her head, she tried to shake the feeling off, but her hands still zipped the jacket up tighter around her.

She reached the door and her hand stilled on the handle. Now she knew what wasn’t right here. There was no noise coming from inside the bar, or even crickets chirping outside of it. That definitely wasn’t right. It was only twenty minutes after Logan’s assigned curfew, the fights should have still been going on. Hell, the crowd should be at its worse because it should be close to the final fights.

Finally stepping in, the fact that the room wasn’t full of smoke confused her. That was till she noticed that they was no one in there. No one in or around the cage, no one standing in her way as she tentatively stepped further into the bar.

She wasn’t aware that she hadn’t breathed since she walked in the door till she saw the figure at the bar. There was no way a back that wide with unnaturally large and sculpted muscles could be any one but Logan. Or someone just a big as Logan, the idea of which made her walk even slower. Until she saw the dark points laying against the bar top.

“Logan!” He didn’t lift his head or move in any way so when she go up to the bar she stayed two seats down from him. “Logan, sugah, where’d everabody go?”

She went to move closer to him but jumped back when the claws shot out, scratching six deep grooves into the top of the dark wood.

“Logan...” she murmured quietly, but kept her distance.

He grunted as he pushed up from the bar top slightly, just enough that he could fold an arm under him and hold him up while the other reached for the quarter full tequila bottle. “Your ‘guardian angel’ radar don’t work worth shit, kid. They came, and you just fucking left me here,” he slurred before he leaned his head back and let a mouth full of liquor burn into his throat.

“They came?!,” She jumped closer to him, “What happened? Are they gone?”

His heavy shoulders lifted the millimeter of a inch that they could in an attempt at a shrug. All this attention was one the bottle in front of him and the silver etched scorpion on its label. “What the fuck do you think?” he hissed at the embellished creature. “I killed them. What the hell other choice did you give me? You fucking left me.”

“Ah didn’t—“ She started to plead to him but he shook his head, turning away, a mammoth child sulking a way only a grown man knew how. Frustrated that the bottle and bar were the only ones he deemed worthy of his time, she grabbed his shoulder and forced him back around to her.

“Oh mah gawd,” she gawked at the sight in front of her. Bright red crimson, still wet but no longer running, was streaked all across his torso. Her eyes followed the large path that gelled in the deep contours of his labs. It extended further, down into his belly button and finally pooled around and in the relief of the snarling wolf at his belt, causing the animal to be a mangled mixture of beaten but taking whatever beast was more powerful down with it.

“Is..is all that ya’s or Theirs...?” Her hands twitched with the urge to run through the thickly matted hair on his chest. She didn’t though, not wanting to stain her new gloves within an hour of buying them.

His only reply was another lazy shrug, but at least he didn’t turn back the other way again. “Well, how many were there?” She probed further.

“Six, twelve, I couldn’t really tell. Or give a fuck,” he answered before relieving the bottle another mouth full. He tired to set it back down, his shaky arm moving slowly. The bottom manage to connect soundly with the top of the bar, but when he removed his fingers from around it and tried to pull his hand away the still poised claws knocked it over. He watched it roll through his slightly hazed over eyes, until finally it ran away from him and off the bar. The shattering chime echoed in the empty room before dying somewhere in the dark.

She watched the tip of his fingers and seemed to finally notice the rest of his body language. Narrowing her eyes she leveled her face to his. “Are ya *drunk*?!”

“No.” He growled, digging his claws deeper into the grain of the bar for support of his swaying upper half.

Huffing her hands shot to her hips. “Ya fuckin’ look awfully damn drunk ta me! Damnit Logan! How tha rat shit ya expect me ta get ya ass outta here? Ah prolly can’t even drag ya iron-clad ass!”

“I’m not drunk,” he pressed louder, turning back away from her.

She didn’t let him get very far before she pushed him back toward her. “Yeah? Ah suppose Elvis an’ that Kennedy bugga drank tha bottle an’ jus’ left ya with it!”

He tried to summon enough strength to bring the claws up to her throat but the metal was simply too heavy for his weak muscles. “They had tranqs, you fucking bitch.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, getting out of his face. He watched her face, looking for some sign that she was going to apologize. But nothing fluttered across her half-amok features. He watched her tuck a pristine white streak behind her ears and now cursed the clean grey gloves covering her hands. He was sitting there fighting his own body for control over his muscles, covered in who knows what and her gloves were perfectly clean, tiny little lying innocence she didn’t deserve. And had he the strength he would of returned the favor she did for him by abandoning him. Course, he probably deserved it, for falling for her con so easily.

“So, where’d tha otha’s go?” Her voice floated from somewhere behind him, but damn if the twitches in his back were going to let him turn around.

“They all ran out when they heard the gunshots. Fucking criminals.” He spit onto the bar top.

She snorted, then was right back beside him. “Like ya got any room talkin’, sugah.” She giggled, that horrid sound that made him wish one of the black-devil bastards would have finally managed to kill him.

Suddenly his eyes focused as epiphany hit him hard. He had been thinking about this whole damn thing wrong, demons chasing him, questioning why he deserved an angel. Perhaps They weren’t the demons. Maybe he was, that would make more sense. He did have more than all the qualifications. And They were simply the good guys, trying to keep him away from the general population. Protect the general good.

The thought made him grin slightly. No one ever thinks they’re the bad guy. He was slightly entertained that he fell into that oh-so hopeful and righteous category, despite all that he’d done. Here he was damning Them for trying to get him and some where in his subconscious he knew full well he deserved to be fucking got.

If that was the case then its wasn’t some higher power sending the girl to him. The streaks of death and haunted green eyes that no angel could possibly fly with fit much better to a more vindictive creature. One that was sent from one of his own kind, from somewhere where hellfire didn’t burn enough. If that was how it was then Satan could take her back, because as far as he was concerned he could go fuck himself. He didn’t need his help.

“Fuck off, kid.” He snarled. He swore under his breath, desperately wishing now his bottle of tequila hadn’t abandoned him too.

“Sorry, big fella. But ah gotta figure out how am gonna get ya ass out of here.” Her full bottom lip went between her teeth as she studied him. “Ah don’t suppose ya can walk? Jus’ a little bit?”

“No,” he groaned, closing his eyes, wishing her away.

She sighed loudly, a noise rivaling that of the crashing liquor bottle. “Well, shit. Four damn gun shot wounds ya heal from in two seconds, a little ol’ dart an ya out for tha night.”

“Nine darts,” he corrected her, looking up from under his heavy brow line.

“Oh, ya can’t tell how many guys are piled on top of ya, but darts ya count,” she rolled her eyes. “Alright, sugah, jus’ try not ta fall on me.”

Before he could register her words a small arm wrapped around his waist and a shoulder was pressed tightly into his armpit. He realized now was his chance to put the claws through her, rid the world of one less demon. Maybe bring him one step closer to deserving an actual guardian angel.

But his body always obeyed her, a phenomenon he hadn’t quite figured out. His arm allowed itself to be draped over her shoulder, the claws danging uselessly over her breast. Her hand came up and wrapped tightly around his forearm, pulling it tighter to her chest. “Jus’ watch tha skin,” she mumbled to him.

They both groaned loudly when she pulled him off the stool and to his feet. Not wanting to stop the momentum she just tighten her grip on him and immediately took the first step towards the door.

They were only three steps closer to the door and sweat was beginning to gather on both of their forehead. His legs tried to crumble under them, but she wouldn’t let them, which caused them both to tilt. Luckily she was able to aim and manage to make sure they crashed into a wooden column. She swore when the weight of his body and hers slammed her shoulder into it, sending a jolt straight into her head, but at least they were still standing up right.

Her body rocked with large breaths, caused more by his weight then actual exertion. “Okay,” she gulped then quickly licked her lips. “Column ta column, can we do that?”

His head was lowered and his eyes were hidden from her by his wild hair that hung down into his face. He wanted to nod but found that all his remaining strength was in his legs and he couldn’t afford any in his head. So he had to settle for grunting in affirmation.

“Okay,” she nodded and took another deep breath, preparing herself for the arduous journey to the next column. “Ah don’t know ‘bout ya, sugah. But ahm gonna be on those bastards like a duck ona June bug for this shit.”

“Ah really appreciate this, Tyler.”

“No problem, Mrs. Dover, I’m happy to help.”

The voices not bothering to mute themselves as they talked outside of his window dragged him into reality. It was quickly not a fun place to be consider that every muscles in his body was stiff with a dull ache. Whether it was from whatever they shot into his system or just sleeping in the car he still wasn’t sure.

Just getting to the car was more trouble than it was worth, considering that he didn’t even want to travel with her anymore. But for someone reason his body was still on her side. It let her drag him to the car, let her push him none to gently in, and he was even already falling asleep just as she pulled onto the highway. At least he got some satisfaction from the little contort of her face with each ramming of her shoulder into the oak columns.

Before he could get a good look at his surroundings the door he was leaning on suddenly moved away from him. He move to grab something in the car to prevent him from falling out but realized it was unnecessary. A large hand was firmly gripping his upper arm, keeping him the car. His head moved around to find some snot nose kid, a very large snot nose kid, but a kid none of the less in some green monkey suit. And Rogue grinning like the crazed little brat she was behind him.

“Sir, my name’s Tyler. Mrs. Dover asked me to help you to the room,” the boy explained in a coddled, hushed tone and moved to pull him out of the car.

“Hands off, bub,” he snarled, pulling his arm away from him. Now that he was awake and had a look around he could tell they were at some giant hotel or something. In the span of a few minutes that he was conscious a steady stream of people moved in a out of the door, not even giving it a chance to completely close. The girl was definitely up to something.

Shaking his head he decided instead to just concentration getting out of the car and hopefully fucking walking. Because there was no way the Wolverine was going to be carried like a invalid in front of a thousand fucking people.

First he had to get the little punk out of his way. That was easily done with a hard shove followed by ringing of the camper vibrating with the force the kid collided with it. Instantly sharp, intense fear wafted to his nose and it was all he could do not to grin right then. It made him feel a lot better, stronger, like that damn entrance wasn’t as fucking far away as it looked at first.

Easing out of the car he put feet to ground and breathed a quiet sigh of relief that he stayed vertical. He could hear the faint buzzing in his ears of his mutation rearing into overdrive, cleaning out the last bit of the drugs and pumping him full of adrenaline instead.



“Sorry ‘bout that,” Rogue smiled impishly as the boy, dusting the phantom particles of dust off his shoulder. “Malt whiskey makes mah brotha a little snippy. Thanks for helpin’, though, sweetheart.”

“Sure...sure..thing Mrs. Dover,” the boys stammered, his cheeks blazing red.

She gave him a last little wink before leaving him with the truck. Logan must have been feeling a lot better because she had to take two leaping steps to catch up with him.

“I do NOT drink malt whiskey,” he growled as soon as he could smell her right behind him.

She giggled and it was a shame they were in the middle of a busy lobby. With lots of witnesses. Because he was definitely feeling strong enough to stab her now.

“Ah neva said ya did, sugah. Ah said it makes mah *brotha* snippy. And believe ya me, ya ain’t exactly got mah momma’s eyes.”

They walked silently across the lobby. He was sure the mud on his boots was ruining the plush red carpeting under his feet just by the glares people were giving him. At least at some time she must have put a shirt on him, or they’d have a lot more to gawk at.

He stopped in front of the elevator doors and the girl reached around him to press the ‘up’ button, not without giving him a ‘gawh’ at having to do it. The elevator came immediately, which made him look back to the kid in the green jacket and wonder if everything was cursed to do her biding.

She stepped in first and went to the key panel, him falling right behind her. A bald man in a dark navy suit got one foot across the threshold before a growl from Logan made him quickly pull it back. The doors mercifully closed before anyone else could give it a try.

“Where are we?” He asked once the seal was connected between the two doors.

Leaning against the side of the elevator the girl looked completely wiped, her skin almost making the ghostly streaks in her hair. “Malistray Tower Apartments. Eau Claire, Wisconsin.”

“Shit, Wisconsin? What time is it?”

“Nine forty, at least it was in tha lobby.”

“You drove for twenty four hours straight?”

“Yep, Mr. Ahm-too-sleepy-ta-give-a-shit-bout-Minnesota,” she answered, still starring at the illuminated four button.

********

“Our stuff already in here,” she explained as they stepped in through the apartment door. “Ya can get a shower first, considerin’ ya smell like shit in a ziplock bag.”

He walked around the room, taking it in. It was one large great room, rich mahogany furniture and pale yellow tweed fabric scattered throughout. The walls were lines with a bulky white chair modeling, above it pink and white striped wall paper. It was an absolutely hideous sight.

“What the hell are we doing here? How did you even get this place?” He found himself asking as he swatted at one of the tassels hanging from thick drapes covering the windows.

His ears picked up a faint giggle, enough so that he ripped the dangling bundle off that was in his hands. “Tha same way ah get everythin’ else, sugah.”

“Itsa luxury appartment complex ina major city,” the girl continued, her voice muffled as it floated out of the kitchen. “Ah figure They ain’t just gonna storm tha place, shootin’ wild an’ shit. So we're good for a while.”

He turned around just as she popped her head in through the arch between the two rooms. “They really are piss ant shots, ain’t they?” She continued, her giggled dying into the bottle of coke her raised to her lips.

“Maybe They just don’t give a shit what they hit,” he guessed, walking back over to her. “Though, tearing this place to shreds might not be a bad idea,” his mumbled and poked one of the twill lamp shades.

She stopped, setting the bottle down on the smooth granite counter of the island. “Ah kinda like it...”

He huffed and continued walking around the place. Counting the windows and the doors, the typical thing. The feeling of someone watching him set his nerves on end, especially since he knew who was watching him. When his paranoia finally wouldn’t let him have his back to her anyway he turn back around to find her still on one of the kitchen chairs, jean clad legs tightly crossed, just watching him.

“So..” He started, trying to fight down his anxiety. “Who the fuck is Mrs. Dover?”

She shrugged, wrapping a white strand around her finger. “Beats me. Look in tha phone book, sugah, ahm sure ya’ll find one.”

“No thanks,” he grunted, “I got more then I can handle now.”

The inch on his stomach was getting more and more annoying from the dried blood and sweat grating against his skin. And worst more the rumor that one can’t smell their own body odor was completely wrong. He didn’t know what shit in a bag or whatever she said smelled like but he figured he was probably close. “Where’s the bathroom?” He asked, walking past her towards the hallway. Which had purple floral wallpaper.

“Fuck if ah know.” She shrugged. Then he watched as her eyebrows came together and she shook her head, pressing two gloved finger to her temple. “No, wait. Ah do. Third door on tha right.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, slightly confused as to if the knock to her head still hurt or just remembering things gave her headaches. Ultimately he decided he didn’t care. He just need to get a shower so he could get out of here. Now that he was fully functioning again.



Once he was out of the room she jumped up and skipped over to the fridge. Twenty four hours driving without sleeping or eating had her completely on low. But food came first.

Just as she got the mayonnaise jar in her grasp a loud ‘fuck’ reverberated throughout the apartment. When it was followed by heavy stomping she sighed and released the jar, closing the refrigerator door.

She was leaning on the kitchen wall, waiting, just as his lumbering form barreled out of the hallway. His face was bright red, lips is a thin straight line and, had he the ability, she was sure smoke would have been coming out of his ears.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He yelled once he was only a foot away from her.

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah don’t have a clue what ya talkin’ ‘bout.”

He roared and threw his hands up, just trying to keep from pounding her. “Is that how you always get what you want? Huh? By leaving a trail of god damn bodies in your wake!”

“Oh, lighten tha fuck up!” She raised her volume to match his and pushed away from the wall, closing the distance. “It ain’t like ah left her in a heap on tha floor or somethin’! Ah picked her up and put tha skinny little twit on tha bed, which ah thought was pretty damn nice a me!!”

“Nice of you?! You fucking killed her!” He roared, one of the veins of his forehead now painfully throbbing.

“Ah didn’t kill shit,” Rogue huffed back. “Didya smell decayin’ flesh in there? No! Ah was jus’ betin’ Miss-Priss in there wasn’t too open ta letting a 600 pound man on tha run ‘barrow’ her place! So back off mah ass!”

His head pounded from anger and frustration. She had absolutely no concern for anyone’s lives. If they had something she wanted she fucking dropped them like bugs and took it. Just because she could. Hell, Satan probably sent her to him just to get her out of hell.
“You are a seriously fucked up maniac-homicidal, psychotic bitch. You know that, kid?”

Her hands move to her hips just as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? And that means what shit comin’ from a deranged lab rat?”

Before she had a chance to breath again she was slammed into the striped wall, her vision momentarily blurred by the impact. The whiplash caused her hair to come loose and it hung limply in front of her face, white and chocolate stripes of its own. When she could breath and open her eyes again she found a very fuming Wolverine only inches away from her face. And poised claws at her neck.

“Shut up,” he hissed at her, small drops of spit flying out of his mouth and onto his chin.

The pressure his other arm had on her bruised shoulder increased with his words, making her wince. She shook her head as much as she could and still not come into contact with the gleaming metal, as to get some of her hair out of her face.

“Ah am sick as hell of ya flashin’ those things at me,” she snarled back. “Fuckin’ stab me already or get tha hell outta mah face. Eitha way ah ain’t scared of ya.”

Damn her, she wasn’t. Only thing he could smell off of her was honey and cinnamon and anger. That only pissed him off more. He should show her. He should show her that she should be scared. She might not be scared of Them or anything else, but she sure as hell should be scared of him.

The muscles of his forearm twitched in anticipation and his locked his eyes onto hers. Steady deep emerald orbs stared back at him from behind the curling brown and white fountain. And aside from the slightly jerk of one of the muscles at her cheek she was the personification of remote and uncaring.

“Fuck,” he swore and retracted the claws but kept his pressure on her, disappointed in how weak he really was.

“Ya need me, Logan. And ya know it.” Her deep, smooth voice challenge him.

“The fuck I do! What the hell do I need you for?!”

“As ah see it, ya wanted by tha whole damn government. Where as ahm only wanted in a few states. Don’t start braggin’ or nothin’, though. So ya need me!”

A frustrated laugh escaped his throat and he finally released his grip on her, just wanting to get away. “Yeah? What the fuck do you do for me, huh? Let’s see.” He extended out a hand and grabbed his pinky finger, beginning to count off. “Steal cars, rob stores, kill endangered animals, spend my money, and oh yeah- god damn abandoning me when I fuckin’ needed you!”

“Ya forgot gettin’ shot for ya, makin’ sure ya got everythin’ ya might need and OH YEAH- carryin’ ya mother fuckin’ heavy ass AND not gettin’ any sleep jus’ so ya far enough away ta be safe!” She emphasized her last word with a hard poke into his chest that he actually stumbled back from.

Again he closed the distance so that the air separating their noses was minimal. “Well I relieve you of your duties, darlin’. Tomorrow I am fucking out of here.” He quickly turned around and stormed off toward the hallway again, his shoulders still raised in tension.

“Good!” She called out after him, “And ah hope ya enjoy tha hot oil an’ SCALPEL treatment Theys got waitin’ for ya!”

A second of silently fuming she added, "And buffalos are NOT endangered!"

The bathroom was too small for him, severely itching at his claustrophobia. And if he had thought that the rest of the apartment was ghastly, he was immediately corrected.

The whole room was swathed in pink gingham, shower curtain, wall paper, towels, and on and on. It was everywhere, dizzying his eyesight. If the assault on his vision and nerves hadn’t been enough there was so much artificial floral and potpourri *crap* his eyes actually watered from the sheer stench of it.

With all of that he should have fled the retched space as soon as he could. But he didn’t. He lingered under the too low spray as it scolded his skin a violent burning red right through till he chilled and made his muscles clench from the sheer freeze.

He didn’t even wash himself. Just stood as the water flowed continuously over his contours, then fell away from him, taking all the evidence of his most recent memories with it.

Damn if he knew why he was just standing there, prolonging his suffering. The first thought that came to him was that he was hiding from the girl, but he desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. He and the Wolverine pleaded in unison that he hadn’t become that pathetic.

Then at the first chilling drop the hope that she planned to take a shower next appeased him. Let the bitch freeze.


******

The sound of his bare feet slapping against the honey-toned hard wood floors echoed in the seemingly empty apartment as he moved back down the hallway. Otherwise it was completely silent. And she hated the silence. Maybe she decided to just cut her losses and take off first. Probably already looking for her next ‘project’.

The expansive great room unsettled him even more than the pitch black hallway. Fingers of a dull pale yellow light from the kitchen crept into the room, casting a hollow glow on the much larger room. It reminded him of the Canadian winters when it was too fucking cold for even the sun and the wind: eerie and still.

His need for a beer suddenly intensified. Shaking off the chilled feeling he ran a hand through his still damp hair and padded over to the kitchen.

The tension eased out of him silently, now that he was in the light and not still standing just outside of it. For some reason it was smaller now, now that the girl wasn’t in it. Hell, it probably succumbed to her wishes as well. Might as well, everything else was.

He tugged the fridge open and basically had to squat to even see the inside of it. Apples, Chinese, four chocolate bars, lettuce, coke... Evidently this chick couldn’t decide if she was healthy or not. But of course beer was on the no-no list. Fucking pansy.

A loud snort escaped him when he saw the box wine. Not such a classy broad after all, was she? The snort quickly morphed into a growl. An empty box wine.

He didn’t ask much out of life. In fact, he always thought he was being a pretty good fucking sport, considering all the shit, past and recent. There was only one thing he expected, and that was beer when he wanted. And right now he really fucking wanted beer.

It wasn’t like he could just go out. The girl probably took the damn car. Which meant he’d have to steal one, and that wasn’t something he really wanted to do right now. The skin between his knuckles was tender and throbbing slightly, he really needed to give the claws a break for a bit. But that meant no beer till morning. Without any kind of buzz there was no fucking telling what would come out of his head if he feel asleep.

Although, now that he thought about it he hadn’t actually had a nightmare since his psychotic little guardian angel had come into his life. Maybe the nightmares were scared of her or they just simply bowed to her command, too. Of course it could just be because she exhausted him like he’s never been before.

Walking around the massive plump couch he stopped. Speaking of the angel herself.

Evidently the girl hadn’t fled. She was curled up, her knees pulled up to her chin, in one of the over-stuffed arm chairs. Her head was rolled back against her shoulder, crooked at a funny angle. The mountain of hair that earlier was piled on top of her head was now flowering down to one side in an effortless cascade before disappearing in the thin red cashmere blanket that she had wrapped tightly around her.

He decided right then, with her thick lashes lying so gently on her pale cheek, her mouth slightly gapped in slumber, and the pale haunting light from the kitchen illuminating and perfectly suiting her, that no matter what, she wasn’t committing enough crimes. She wasn’t reaching her full potential. The damn little thing could probably shoot the president and walk into a court room and be instantly found innocent. As long as she didn’t giggle, that was.

Shaking his head he flopped down on the couch. Never in all the years could he remember did he ever think he’d find himself in a situation like this. Sure, dead in a ditch. But not in some strange comatose woman’s apartment. With a homicidal angel. Without beer.

Rolling his neck he immediately relaxed at the metallic pop and eased further back into the couch. Finally he noticed the pile stacked at the end of it. Two pristine white and plush pillows and a quilt folded neatly on top of them.

He wanted to say he was shocked. Surprised after their row earlier that not only was the girl still there but she left him the couch, all the pillows, and the biggest blanket, but for some reason he wasn’t. Sure, it didn’t make any damn sense, that he acknowledged. But nothing about her had made sense from ‘Well, damn. Of course ahm follwin’ ya!’, so why would it be any different now?

“Kid, wake up,” he called out, but remembered not to touch her.

She stirred slightly, winced, and roller her head around the other way. When her movements stilled he called out her name louder.

“What...” she groaned out, although it sounded more like a croak with her lagging thick accent.

Suddenly something white flooded her vision and her head instinctively jerked back, away from whatever it was.

“Here. Take it, I don’t need two.”

At his voice her eyes came up and settled on his face. She had to blink some consciousness back into them but slowly his jetting pointy hair, thick mutton chops and stubbed jaw were in focus.

Once he was righted she turned her attention to the object that threatened to attack her. A pillow, one end tightly clenched in his hand, hovering at her the same was three piercing claws were an hour or two ago.

“Ahm fahne...” She sighed, pulling the blanket up higher. “Jus’ let me go back ta sleep.”

“I don’t want it.” He stressed, his jaw clenched tightly.

Opening one eye again she found that neither the pillow nor he had moved an inch. “Please, Logan, ahm exhausted. Jus’ put it on tha floor if ya don’t want it.”

“Why won’t you just take the damn thing!?”

“Ah swear, if ya don’t get that puff ball outta mah face ahm gonna kick ya.”

With a fuming snort he threw the offending bedding down at the foot of the chair and stomped the three steps back to the couch.

He sat there, grunting occasionally, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching her. She was already curled back up again, facing the other way this time. There was no way he was going to get to sleep too. Before he was just hopped up on energy, now he was aggravated too.

Eventualy his eyes settled on a foam box sitting on the coffee table in front on them. His eyebrows instantly narrowed at it. Was that there when they came in? Maybe he didn’t see it. Wait, why the fuck wouldn’t he have seen it?

“Rogue,” he said loudly. “What’s with the box?”

She groaned, loud and drawn out. Even added a little whimper at the end of it before opening her eyes and sitting up. “What?!”

He just pointed to the newfound object and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Shit, Logan. Ya couldn’t jus’ open it yaself an’ let me sleep?” She asked, but was only meet with a blank expression. “It’s ya god damn beer. There weren’t any in tha fridge so ah went next door while ya were in tha shower an’ asked ta borrow some.”

She was amazing; he had to give her that. He was actually going to say thanks, considered it for a whole minute and a half as he popped the first can, but stopped when he looked at her.

The luxurious blanket now fallen forgotten on the floor, covering the pillow. She was bent in half, her head dropped, rubbing the palms of her hands roughly against her face.

“Did I hurt your head?” He asked, “..earlier..” She looked up, her face slightly pink from the rubbing. Both their faces clearly reading that neither was sorry for ‘earlier’.

“Naw,” she shrugged and he accepted the answer with a nod and returned to nursing his beer.

They sat in silence for a while; the only break in the monotony was the occasional sound of traffic going by. He was well into his second beer before she finally lifted her head again.

“Ah didn’t kill tha man in Nebraska.” She stated, her voice sounding partial bored. “Or tha guy ah got tha mustang from. Or even tha two government boys, though they deserved more ‘en good switchin’.”

He was relaxed now, against his own will. A bulky arm stretched out over the top of the sofa, both propped up on the coffee table, a sweating beer resting on his thigh– completely relaxed. “You trying to get ‘homicidal’ scratched off your resume, darlin’?”

“No, ah jus’ haven’t killed as many folks as ya seem ta think ah have.”

Now she had his attention. His curiosity. Hell, sitting there all doey eyed talking about murder, she had everything but his beer. “So how many people have you killed?”

She pulled her feet back up to her chest, sinking back into the chair. “Six.”

He shrugged, not sure how else to respond. It wasn’t really that high of a number, not compared to him anyways. “Well, at least you remember.”

“Corse ah remember,” she spit back quickly, which through him slightly off guard. “Got evera las’ damn person ah eva touched in mah head– *remindin’* me all tha damn time wha ah done ta ‘em.”

His eyebrow shot up at that. Shit, she really was psychotic. And he’d been sleeping in the same room with her? How *nuts* was he?

His reaction did not go unnoticed by her. Instead of yelling back lab rat again, like he half expected her to do, she just rolled her eyes at him. “Ah told ya ah got killer skin. When ah touch someone ah take their life, which so happens ta include memories, personalities. Feels like their damn souls poundin’ around in mah head.”

Fuck, for a kid, she was a even bigger wack job then he was. At least he was alone in his own head, sometimes it was a little too empty, but it was his. It was hard enough for him to deal with people outside, fuck knows how he’d handle carry a supermarket full around all the time.

Though, he sort of saw the blessing. She would never forget what she did. To her that might seem like a burden, but not to him. Even with most of his memory restored he could only remember the kill. Not the men’s faces, not really. Not who they were, if they had a family, anything about them.

“You remember the six?” He found himself asking.

“Um..” She started, biting her lip. For the first time he saw her calm green eyes cloud with uncertainty. “Yeah... Four men an’..um...mah parents.”

His eyes widen, he hadn’t really even thought of her actually *having* parents before. And as much as she annoyed the shit out of him and he questioned her sanity, he doubted she could really be that evil. Kill her own parents? “It was an accident?” He suggested.

“No...” Her eyes meet his, brave but still pleading that he couldn’t bring himself to look away from them. And he really wanted to look away. Be anywhere but there.

“Ah got mah mutation,” she started quickly. He finally noticed she wasn’t wearing any gloves. Why hadn’t he noticed before? “Mah parents...they were kinda strict, real religious like. Called me Satan’s kin when ah got killer skin.”

He nodded for her to continue. Though, he couldn’t really blame her parents. He wasn’t even a religious man and the same idea crossed his mind.

She continued, now starring at the chipped plum nail polish on her fingers. “They were goin’ send me to this ‘institution’ they called it. An’ these two big ol’ dudes came ta tha house. Mama said they were there ta take me where ah belonged.” She stopped for a second to rub her temple. “Lookin’ at ‘em– jus’ lookin’ at ‘em-- ah knew ah didn’t wanna go where they were wantin’ ta take me. So when they grabbed me ah drained ‘em for everythin’ ah was worth, ‘cuz they had guns n’ shit an’ ah knew it was tha only way ah was gettin’ past ‘em.”

Suddenly she stopped in the middle of her story to giggle. The half-hysteric sound made so much more sense to him like this. Coming out of a little girl’s mouth as she told about killing her parents.

“Ah neva though they’d snatch at me like they did. Mah daddy even yelled ‘Priscilla get tha gun!’” She stopped again. This time not to giggle but just chew on her bottom lip. “Right then– right then it dawned on me it was me or them. Bastards jus’ couldn’t let me run out tha damn door...”

He stared at her, slightly in awe how she could look so young and innocent and be anything but. He wondered if she expected some kind of sympathy from him; he had none. Sure the kid’s life sucked, but that was preaching to the choir.

He watched her for a second, waiting to see if she was going to on or something. But soon he could tell she was in her own little world, staring off to the side. Then she did shock him.

His breath stopped in his throat and for the damn life of him he couldn’t swallow it back down. Intently blue eyes followed the travel of one thin tear from a cloudy emerald down across a pale cheek till it finally dripped at died at the collar of her shirt.

He ranked his fingers through his hair with a internal groan. What the hell was the matter with him? All this time he’d been assigning her these hypocritical titles of angel or demon or whatever he went through just to try and explain her. But that one tear snapped him out of the cynical fantasy world he had been living in. She was just a girl. No angel or satanic creature bent on the earth’s destruction. Just a girl with a fucked up mutation and a fucked up life to match it.

“Ah guess...” Her seemingly long lost voice snapped him out of himself. “Ah guess when ah touched that man, Lt. Asswipe, an’ got those memorizes -ya in tha labs an’ stuff-. Well, ah jus’ always thought that’s probably where mah folks were tryin’ ta ship me to. Somethin’ along those lines, anyway.” She shrugged then turned and grinned at him slightly. “Ah figured, hell, ah been pretty good at keepin’ mahself outta them kinda places so far, an’ ya need help stayin’ out, ah could probably do that.”

He wanted to laugh at her. The time when she was standing in the middle of a firing range, trying to pull his 600+ pounds of mass and metal off the ground flashed in front of his mind. Neither times should have been funny. But it was just so ridiculous, the entire notion of it.

Instead he opted to keep quiet, she seemed a little fragile. And truth be told he was fully enjoying it. It wasn't the smell of fear, but it was probably even better. Fragile and damaged, yet not afraid, he couldn’t think of a better combination.

“That was four, kid.” He pointed out. “You said six.”

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged again, although the tension in her was lightening considerable. “Jus’ two men ah touched when ah first was on road. Both of ‘em were accidents. Not tha touchin’, jus’ takin’ it all. It was hard ta control with mah nerves so on end. That was when tha whole damn Mississippi state police was chasin’ me. Jus’ couldn’t make tha pull stop. Felt real bad for a while.”

“For a while?” He snorted, trying to hide a grin behind his beer can.

“Well, shit sugah. Mah parents thought ah was a burden on society, tha police thought ah was a burden on society. What is tha damn point, ah might as well be ah damn burden on soceity. So ah take what ah need. ‘Sides. Tha people ah touch, ah figure that’s tha best way. No one gets hurt.”

His only response was a eyebrow going up.

“Wha? They don’t! Sure, it hurts when ah do it, but ah ain’t nothin’ more than one bad memory after that. Shit, they’re countless bad memories ta me for tha rest ah my life. So who is who’s ‘burden’, hm? All that damn noise.”

He sat his beer down and found himself rubbing his knuckles just as she reached up to rub her temple. His claws were his most obvious mutation, and they hurt like a bitch every time he used them. Evidently hers worked the same way– must be God’s big joke on mutants.

“Why do you do it then, darlin’? Why take so many people in if you don’t have to?”

Her eyes meet his and searched for a second. Like she finally couldn’t understand him and see right through him.

“Tha noise makes it easier,” she whispered her voice low and husky. Emerald bored into sapphire. “Tha more that’s up there– tha more that they’re drown out. Ah don’t wanna hafta hear ‘em anymore.”

“Who? Your parents?”

She straightened up in her chair, rolling her eyes. “Naw, Logan. Tha bunch a kids ah stole ice-cream cones from. Yes mah parents!”

Sharp canines were flashed at her in a rumbling growl, but that was it.

He was going to ask her about the Lt. and the other military men she touched. Now that he knew what she had bouncing inside her head he might be able to use some of it.

The questions never came out of his mouth, however. The poor girl’s eyes were fluttering down, and her upper body was swaying slightly, she was obviously trying to fight it. Never before had he seen an image that made him feel more like a selfish bastard. And that was saying something, because he always made *sure* he was a pretty damn big selfish bastard.

“Hey, kid. You look like shit, maybe you should get some sleep,” he suggested and actually stood up to pick the pillow and blanket at her feet off the floor.

“Aw, thanks, sugah. Had ah known it was ya permission ah needed ta get a little shut eye ah’d asked right when we came in.” She sassed and yanked the pillow from him, but there was still a small grin across her lips.

“You’ve had worse ideas, darlin’.” He quipped back and waited for her to settle into another tight ball, something only girls must be able to do, he thought, before spreading the fine, soft blanket over her.

He was half way to the kitchen with the magical foam box when her voice weakly called out to him in a sleep mumble.

“Yeah?”

“We leavin’ tomorrow? ‘Cuz if not ahm gonna havta give Miss.Tweedy anotha hit.”

Hovering at the trash can his eyes lowered to the ground. So he didn’t hate her as much as he thought he did. Though, he wasn’t really sure he ever really hated her, more of hated her effect on him. But none of that changed anything.

The aluminum cans collided with three loud ‘bongs’ with the bottom of the trash can. “I’m leaving tomorrow. You do whatever you want.”

“But ah thought...”

“Rogue,” he stopped her, slightly annoyed that he was half this conversation yelling across the whole damn apartment. “Its over. I appreciate... well; it just doesn’t make any sense. It never did. We’re better off doing our own thing. You can’t just deal with my shit all the time. You’re young. You need to go find an actual life.”

“But ah don’t mind–“

“I do. Now go back to sleep, darlin’.”

It took longer than it normally would for the smell to hit him. Usually it would have been subtle, blending in with the natural aromas around him then gradually increase. But this time it just hit him in one gust. He didn’t know why the detection was delayed, but it was NOT a good thing. He could only assume it was the vast amounts of rank perfume embedded in every god damn surface of the apartment. The other option was that he was losing it. And that was not a choice. Because if that was true he was as good as dead.

It was still relatively faint now. Although in that shit-scent boutique that wasn’t saying much. But he could pick it up well enough to tell if he moved now he’d probably get out in time. Damn if he could find where she stashed the keys. What was she just bound and determined to make his life as stressful as possible?

“Get up,” he grunted as he walked pasted her and began to search the various surfaces around the room. She mumbled incoherently then twisted awkwardly-- away from him.

Pillows flew in havoc directions as he searched the cushions of the couch. His anxiety grew as the smell intensified yet the hunt kept producing fruitless. No key, no sounds of jingling, no escape, and most aggravating- a still hard slumbering chaotic minx ignoring him.

It had only been four hours since she fell asleep. And if he gave a shit he might have felt bad, considering how exhausted she was. But right now all he gave a shit about was finding the god damn keys to the truck and getting her up. And she was going to get up. “Get the fuck UP!”

The chair groaned and moaned at him.

“NOW!” He added, making his voice bounce off all the walls of the great room.

“If ya wanted me ta kill ya, sugah, ya should have jus’ asked,” she mumbled into the back of the chair, pulling the blanket up over her head.

He wondered if she even gave a shit how utterly un-funny her words were right now. Momentary he decided to let her be and concentrate on the keys, what with the time quickly running out. Frantically he searched, checking the kitchen table and counters and throwing all the mail off the engraved swan table by the door.

Roaring in frustration he stormed back into the room, still empty handed. Just as he was about to begin the hostile information squeeze on her a tiny glint caught his eye.

He practically ran to the coffee table and shoved off the myriad of CosmoGirl magazines. Thankfully a heaven sent ring practically echoed in his ears as the tiny pieces of metal bounced onto the floor.

“I smell gun powder,” he simply stated to her as he pushed the keys into his side pocket. But despite what he thought was an obvious warning the image in front of him did not change. It remained a cashmere covered butt and a fountain of brown hair.

“Good,” the pile replied. “Shoot me. Put tha silencer on, though. Ahm tryin’ ta sleep.”

Most god damn infuriating woman ever placed on the face of this earth! This is exactly why they were better off apart. On his own he could move. He’d been in the car right now, getting the fuck out of dodge. But no, he had to deal with a girl that was definitely being a damn piss poor guardian angel right now!

He had no clue what was keeping him from running out the door now. He had the car keys. And she deserved to be left, refusing to get up like she was. But the Wolverine inside him roared, he was not leaving the girl. God and Satan could have her, where ever she was suppose to be, but They couldn’t.

A quick tug and the red blanket went flying towards the couch. She squeaked from the sudden temperature change and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling further into the chair. Several blurred words leaked out of her that he could only assume was her swearing at him. Good.

Next came the pillow. Suddenly it was gone from under her head, which dropped with a quiet ‘thud’ on the arm rest.

She sprang up, twisting towards him. Her eyes were blotched red. It was a toss up that it was from either her lack of sleep or sheer anger. “What tha FUCK is ya problem?!”

“I’m having several right now,” he grunted back.

Then before she could yell at him again she was lifted off the chair by hard warm two-by-fours tucked under her knees and wrapped around her back.

“Logan!” She shrieked as she was pulled tight into his chest.

He ignored her, which was hard considering she yelled right into his ear. As light as she was it should have easy to carry her across the seven feet to the front door. But evidently she just wasn’t happy unless she was making everything harder than it needed to be. She was squirming and wiggling so bad in his arms it was all he could do not to drop her ass on the hard wood floor.
Suddenly his grip on her lessened as his arms moved away. She yelled again as she felt her body start to fall. Her arms shot up and quickly wrapped around his neck, coiling tightly.

She actually only dropped an inch or two before his arms locked around her again. “You gonna stop squirming?”

“Bastard,” she snapped, but kept her arms around him.

With her finally working with him the trek to the door was easier. He was slightly pissed that they’d have to leave everything behind. At least he felt better about stealing all those clothes, he hadn’t owned them long enough or wore enough of them to justify paying for them anyway. He just hoped she’d left enough money to get them a tank of gas.

“What tha hell is goin’ on, Logan?” She finally asked while she watching him twist the knob and kick the door open.

“They’re coming,” he answered walking through the threshold.

Once they were in the hall he set her down. It was silent in the late hours but now that he was out of that pansy hell hole he could finally read the smell. It was not good.

He reached past her and pulled the door closed. “We gotta hurry.”

“Aren’t we safer in here?”

The words barely left her mouth before a loud crash of glass shattering exploded from somewhere behind the door.

“Nope.” He grabbed her upper arm, right under her armpit, were her shirt was covering her skin. It took three or four steps til she finally stopped making him drag her behind him as he ran down the hall. They couldn’t take the elevator. They’d find out and just be waiting at the bottom for them. Or They'd just cut the chords, figuring he would survive the fall enough. Not to mention they could probably run down the stairs faster, the way that granny wagon hauled them up.

He released her to push the heavy fire doors that lead to the stairs open. It was one brightly lit vertical tunnel. The stairs were probably the cleanest concrete he’d ever seen, even had polished rod-iron railing. Rich people. Thankfully he’d already put his boots on. The stairs weren’t going to be so clean anymore.

He ran half way down the first set of stairs before it registered that he didn’t hear the sound of bare feet behind him. His heart jumped the foot and a half into his throat and he quickly turned around. Instantly he stalled at the sight of her.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Buyin’ time!” She yelled as she tried to stuff the back of the chair at an angle into the knob of the door.

The pounding in his head increased another notch. “That doesn’t actually fucking work!”

“Then why do they do it in all tha movies an’ shit? Hm?”

“God damnit,” he swore and closed the distance between them. As soon as he was close enough he snatched the loose material on her shirt and tugged it hard, pulling her down the first few steps toward him.

The tug made her off balance on the steps and she stumbled right into his arms. They both grunted from the impact. Once she was standing on both of her feet he let go of his hold on her.

His eyes leveled with hers, the lines of his face taunt and stern. “No more stopping.”

She nodded and he pushed lightly on her lower back, indicating he wanted her to go first.

Their steps echoed in the tall corridor, a steady percussion of delicate slaps and pounding thuds. Worse more, originally only he could hear the horrific back ground rhythm. It was a uniformed knocking noise combined with a deep rattle, muffled, but not nearly drowned out enough.

He knew she could hear it too when she kept turning her head. Big, anxious green eyes looked straight through him for something behind them. He wanted to smell her then, smell if the allusive fear finally caught her and wrapped its scent firmly around her, corrupting the honey and cinnamon. But his nose couldn’t process anything but the sheer intensity of gun powder.

Suddenly she disobeyed him again, coming to a complete stop on the landing between the third and second floor.

“Gimme tha car keys,” her chest rock from the lack of air as she extended her hand out.

“What?! Fuck you, kid.”

She rolled her eyes, but kept her hand out. “Ya wanna split? We’re splittin’ right here. Ah’ll get Their attention, have ‘em chase me for a bit, and ya sneak tha hell outta here. Hopefully ah can get tha buggas ta follow me all the way ta the truck an’ follow that. Ya get a new car. A *faster* car. No more of this beat ta hell, rust bucket shit.”

He could only stare at her as the words tumbled out of her mouth. At first they didn’t sink in. Split. Chase. Car. It took another second before they all formed into one disgusting word.

“I am not letting you be my decoy!”

“Why not?! It’s a prefect plan!”

“For one you don’t fucking heal from gun shots!”

“Ah hate ta break it ta ya, but ah don’t plan on gettin’ shot!”

His hands ranked through his hair, pressing the heels of his palms hard into his scalp. She can’t do this! Why was she always fucking doing this!? It was all piling up on him, the pounding headache, the pounding footsteps of the fuck knows how many armed military men just half a floor up.

He reminded himself not to yell, it only increased the throbbing in his head. “I don’t want them coming after you. Not to just by me a few extra minutes. It’s fucking suicide, darlin’. You ain’t got a chance.”

She looked up the steps they were at the base of, checking that they were still nothing, despite the increased noise of now people screaming. “Well ah don’t particularly want ta take that piece a shit truck, either. We’re both jus’ gonna have ta deal. Ah already told ya, Logan, ahm gonna kept tha big bad hunter from gettin’ ya. Ah meant it. ”

He roared and sent his fist flying into the closest immoveable concrete wall. “This isn’t a fucking game, Rogue. You’re as good as dead if I leave you to Them. Stop this shit. Stop pretending you can fix everything or fucking save me! You barely even fucking know me!”

A slow grin spread to her face and he wanted to beat it off. She wasn’t listening!

“Ya can’t tell me what ta do,” she said with a smile. “Ahm gonna go up there an’ play with tha boys in black for a bit. Tha only question here is if ya gonna take advantage of it an’ run. And of coarse ah know ya. Ahm ya guardian angel, its what we do.”

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard! I don’t fucking *want* your help!”

“Alright, sugah.” She finally removed her open hand and instead moved her arms up to cross of her chest. “Why don’t we jus’ stand here an’ talk for a while an’ see what happens. So. Read any good books lately?”

They stood facing each other, eyes challenging. It was a sick game of chicken. Both standing, bringing themselves closer and closer to certain death, waiting for the other to balk and give in. More and more voices screamed and yelled above them, serving as a make shift ticking.

During their silence he was running through his options. He could knocked her out, carry her down the stairs with him. But then he’d still have to figure out how to get rid of her later...

She quickly stopped his deliberation when she stepped to him, her hand driving straight into the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey!” He took a step back but she just followed with him, her hand tightly connected to his hip. He moved to pull it out but was stop by the vast amounts of killer skin she had on display. So his hands could only hover as she dug for the keys. Damn her.

When she finally had success, she giggled, dangling the keys in front of him. “Go on, Logan. Get tha fuck outta here.”

She smiled at him, a bright warm smile that he’d never seen before on her. He was so stunned by it he barely registered the light kiss she placed on his sideburns. Or her running away from him back up the stairs.

Her head popped through the heavy fire doors first. There was no masked, heavily armed men that she could see. But she could hear voices jumbling together of people talking further away.

The building was square but had a giant courtyard in the middle of it. So the hallway was a continuous looping path through the whole floor that *hopefully* she could play ring around the rosie once or twice with Them. Depending on how stupid They were.

She stepped completely into the hall, taking a slow, deep breath and let the noise in her head wash over her. The usually constant drumming and gibberish intensified into actual words, screams, prayers, in high and deep voices, all roughly blending into a thundering mass.

She tried to concentrate on the useful noise, Lt. Anderson and the other two. The two men were simple. Weak personalities she could easily manipulate with her own. She shuffled through their memories and felt a bit more relax. They were pretty dumb. Basically they knew their names, Carl Strong and Steven Banks, and their age and identification numbers. And, of coarse, how to shoot a gun.

“Huh,” she shrugged, “Guess ah knew how afta all.”

They weren’t terribly complex individuals, unlike Anderson. She had to fight down the arrogance and cold-heartedness that threatened to overwhelm her and assimilate itself to her. He was harder to keep as second once she separated him from the others. He had determination and ambition, something most of the people she absorbed lacked. She concentrated on what she wanted out of him. After she got it she could push him back, let the drone masses swallow him whole again.

It was a struggle, but finally he gave up the information. In a residential seize they’d be disgusted as police. Usually a unit of eight. Minimal firearms, more likely to have tranqs for the Wolverine anyways. Must avoid civilian contact, don’t drawl unnecessary attention.

That was enough; she forced him back before he got too comfortable in front. The drumming gibberish slowly returned as she rubbed her temples and focused on her own self in her head. Now she just had to find Them.





She watched them, shaking her head while they searched. Did They really think Logan would hide behind a potted plant? A god damn oak tree couldn’t hide him. One more good deep breath and stepped out from behind the corner.

“Go, Logan! Ahm right behind ya!” She yelled down the empty corridor. Eight vacant faces snapped towards her in one synchronized motion. She waved at Them then quickly turned on her heels, running.

“Hey!”

“After her!”

She couldn’t help the giggle from escaping as she ran down the corridor. They were lagging horribly, a good fifteen feet behind her. While They were weighed down with Their gear and guns and whatever else, she didn’t even have shoes on her feet.

Actually, now that she thought about it, the soft crushed carpet felt pretty darn good. Infinitely better than asphalt or gravel or any of the other various surfaces she’d run from the cops on. It even provided a nice little extra spring that you just couldn’t get from hard ground.

Nice years ago when she was first chased she had been scared out of her mind and a blubbering mess from the all anti-Rogue voices lashing out in her head. Now she was relaxed, able to judge Their distance by the rattling of Their gear as it bounced up and down. And, if she did say so herself, she was quite a bit faster. Experience was priceless.

“Stop or we’ll shot!” She snorted at Their warning. They’d been shooting at her a lot lately and all They had to show for it was a scratch and burn on her arm. Maybe she shouldn’t use Carl and Steven’s advice on how to shoot a gun after all.

Just then an idea popped into her head. The onset of giggling from it was probably a bad idea, considering it was screwing her breathing up.

“Help! Help!” She yelled and knocked hard on the closest pristine white door as she ran past it. To do it she had to slow down a bit but continued to pound hard on each door as she ran past them, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Somebody help! Please help me!”

People came pouring out into the hall from their various doors. She could hear them swearing and yelling “watch it!”, “what’s going on out here?” as They ran hard straight into them.

Risking it she decided to stop and admire her damage: a massive pile up of nightgowns and Kevlar vests and baseball bats and semi-automated weapons. She just couldn’t help it, she busted into a fit of giggles. It caused to brace her hands on her knees to lessen the cramp in her side but it was well worth it. Even several of the personalities in her head were entertained by the sight. Especially the old lady whacking one of Them with a firing pan. So much for minimal civilian contact.

“Get her!”

“Oh shit,” She took off again just as some of Them shoved at and untangled themselves from the confused ‘innocent bystanders’.

They were getting close to a complete lap around the plushy decorated Malistray Towers. A second lap was probably out of the cards. She was slowing down, she knew it. And her lungs her already constricting from the intense exercise she hadn’t exactly stretched for. A second lap also meant she’d have to get through the traffic jam she caused. Which defeated the whole point of doing it.

“Your last warning!”

Her head turned at the thick New Yorker voice that was new. Either she didn’t count very well the first time or she made some more friends. There had to be at least twelve of Them following her now. She picked up as much speed as she could and just tried to ignoring the burning in her chest where her heart should have been. There was no civilian buffers between her and Them now, They might actually shoot.

“Get to the stairs. Get to the stairs,” she began chanting to herself. Logan had to be out of the building by now, and hopefully currently, if not already in, hot-wiring a camaro.

Finally she was coming back to the fire door. The heavily laden men were still a few feet behind her. But close enough she could hear how badly They were huffing and puffing. Evidently They were in worse shape than she was. Maybe they just didn’t train top-secret, anti-mutant military units as well as they use to anymore.

“Freeze!” The same northern yelled again and she skidded to a stop at the wall.

They echoed her movement; piling up on each other is a sudden stop.

“Come on, doll face.” She narrowed her eyes as he stepped forward, his hands out in front of him. “Just walk over here. Real slowly.”

“Bite me.” She snapped before throwing her body hard onto the doors, running hard through them.

“God damnit!” The man yelled. He turned to the ten or so men standing dumbfounded behind him. “Well go get her you sons of a bitches!”





Her feet hit the steps hard and she swore at her height. If she was taller she could skip a few steps, but as it was her legs were rotating as fast as they could to quickly eat up steps. Things were quickly getting less and less entertaining when one of the bastards fired off a shot that exploded into the concrete wall somewhere behind her head.

Each step got its own “fuck” as she hit it. Three flights of stairs didn’t seem like that much when she thought up this little idea. As another shot sung out followed by the ringing of the iron railing she realized it was about two flights too many.

From the vibrations under her feet it felt like not one of Them took the elevator, like a herd of rhinos was chasing her in the crap confines. The voices in her head changed the chant to “Faster! Faster!” It was a rare moment when they all agree on one thing.

To make things worse dizziness was starting to cloud behind her eyes and she had to keep one hand on the railing to steady herself as she ran. She didn’t know if it was from going in circles around the hall then down the stairs or it was just plain exhaustion kicking in from too much exercise after not enough sleep but her feet were having a harder and harder time making contact with its appropriate step.




By the time she busted into the lobby her entire body was burning. Lungs, legs, head, everything. Luckily there wasn’t a mass of Them waiting at the door. So none of the actually took the elevator. What a bunch of complete morons. Where the hell did They think she was going?

She pushed Them out of her mind, and just concentrated on her own body. She was almost there. The rotating glass doors were only twenty feet away. She pushed her legs faster to increase the speed. She was almost there. She just had to get in the car and loose them on the road.

Just as she thought she was home free a green mass jumped in her way. Her bare feet were barely able to get enough friction on the smooth carpet to stop, but she managed to rein her body under control before she made impact.

“Mrs. Dover? What’s wrong?”

Tyler. The door kid. “Oh, Tyler!” She coughed, trying to get words out with the limited air in her chest. “Is tha truck, tha one ah came in, is it still in tha front?”

“No ma’am.” He stuttered, confused. “I...remember I moved it to the side of the building.”

She whimpered and rolled her eyes. “‘Coarse ya did.” She took off again, pushing off of him and leaving him standing with his mouth open.

“Wait, do you need any help?” He called after her put she was already through the door, sending in spinning chaotically after she got out.

“Hey! Don’t let her get away!”

Tyler turned around and balked at the large group of men with ‘POLICE’ written across their chests beginning to fill the lobby up. “Wh...who?” He asked as they ran up to him.

“Just forget it. Move out of our way!” The New Yorker shoved him sending Tyler stumbling back until he finally tripped over a chair and onto the floor. Then he jerked his arm at the door, signaling his men.






He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He wasn’t a hero; he didn’t want to be a hero. Hell, this wasn’t even being a hero, it was just being stupid. It seriously rivaled with volunteering for ‘advanced military training’. Even the Wolverine, who had always been on the girl’s side, as much as he was on anybody’s, snarled and snapped at him. He didn’t fight it, the internal attack, because he completely agreed with it. But something else kept the beast from taking control. And fuck if he knew what it was.

But here he was, hiding under the overgrowth of trees, car running, just sitting there. One hand was wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, white on the knuckles, red between them. The other hand was on the gear shift, waiting. He’d been in the same position for at least fifteen minutes now. And he came up with countless arguments and reason not to do this, in fact, he couldn’t seem to find a good one *to* do it. But here it was, still fifteen minutes later, his body tense and ready.

Damn her! Damn whatever she did to him that made him go against himself and everything he’d always been and everything he knew. Damn those dirty, torn gloves and those dark eerie green eyes that he just couldn’t get out of his head.

There. He could see them now, riving and swerving out of the apartment’s parking lot. His hand instantly moved the car out of park. As soon as the truck sped past the muscles in his thigh jumped and his foot slammed down on the gas without any hesitation. Sending him straight into the oncoming black vans.

He came to in hell. Which didn’t necessarily mean he was dead. He refused to open his eyes, blackness was better than dank green-grey. Hard, cold metal stretched down from his back to his heels. The surface was clammy and damp against him in the places the he sweat, skin against metal not allowing any evaporation. But it wasn’t hot enough. He should be drowning in his own sweat, from what he heard of hell, burning hot never ending sweat. The other place. That’s where cold sweat dripped down your spine.

So he hadn’t died in the crash. Fuck, why was dying so damn difficult? He could try the claws again. Ramming them through his chest had never worked before, but maybe eighth time was a charm.

He could have cried when his arms remained immobile. The cold metal wasn’t just under him but wrapped around, pining his wrists, his chest, his legs, his whole damn escape. He thrashed his body as hard as he could against he binds. They dug deep into his skin but not nearly deep enough.

“Ah, Wolverine.” He stilled at the voice. The beast inside continued to howl and fight but Logan knew better. That was what the bastard wanted. Instead he spit at the coke-bottle rimmed tired face.

“Hm. Attractive.” Stryker grimaced as he wiped his glasses off. “I must say, Wolverine, it is good to have my pet back. In his cage, where he properly belongs. And after all these years. Those ‘Lost Puppy’ posters just don’t work as well as they use to anymore, do they?”

He remained silent, refusing to bite on Stryker’s animal taunting. Years ago he came to a conclusion that one of them might have been an animal, but it sure as hell wasn’t fucking him. He just happened to have claws.

“But, as much as this pains me,” Stryker came closer. Logan fought back the gag reaction when he laid his rubber gloved hand on his stomach. “I have a proposition for you, Wolverine. A deal. You do this for me and I’ll let you go. You can go waste your eternity away it whatever dive hole bar you wish. I won’t even visit for Christmas. So how about it, my pet?”

“Let me guess,” Logan fought the words through the sandpaper in his throat. “You want me to kill the president? Prime Minister of England?” A weak grin crept onto his face. “The king of Fiji?”

“What?” Stryker huffed. “No, you buffoon. I merely want some information from you.”

He tried to adjust under the bonding, but the movement only cause the most disgusting sound of his bare skin screeching on the metal. “What information? I don’t know shit.” He finally answered.

“Well, while I’ll agree you posses very little usefulness when it comes to anything other than maiming and murders. I do believe you know this.”

“What?” Logan barked again, quickly getting frustrated with the cat and mouse game the bastard was always so found of playing. Dangling his freedom right in front of him, then pulling it back.

The old man leaned forward, “The girl, Wolverine. I want to know where the girl is.”

Him and the beast equally roared, pushing in the hard bonds a good inch into his flesh. “Leave her out of this, you bastard,” he hissed, his top lip curling up. “You fucking got me already, she has nothing you want anymore.”

Stryker laughed and took a step back. “She *is* what I want. A pleasant faced vixen who can kill with a touch? She is immeasureably more useful than you are, my dear pet. Less, hm... messy shall we say? Now, tell me where she is and I will let you scurry off back to the woods you crawled out of. Think for once in your life, Wolverine. This offer will not last if we find her ourselves.”

“You don’t know shit,” he snarled, “You’ll never find her.”

“Don’t know shit? Oh, we’ve been apart too long, you’ve forgotten your master. You left quite a bit of her blood behind in some lovely motel. I can just *imagine* how that happened.” Stryker smirked down at him.

Her blood. His heart, his whole body stilled. ‘An’ ya jus’ let me bleed all ova mahself all night...’ her voice floated through his mind. He screwed up. He fucked them both over right from the beginning.

“Private, the folder please,” Stryker stretched out his hand towards one of the men standing in the door way. Clearly enjoying the paleness on Logan’s face he opened the light folder slowly. “Let’s see.... Ann Marie D’Ancanto born January 11, 1984 to a Earl and Priscilla D’Ancanto from Magnolia, Mississippi, how precious.” He winked at Logan then looked back down to the folder. “Wanted in two states for the murder of six people; good, she’s a natural. Well, well, well, two of which were her own parents. Oh, Wolverine, I like this girl already. You have better tastes than I thought.”

Claws jerked out of his arms on their own, scratching six deep groves into the metal under him with a high pitched wail. “You stay the fuck away from her, you god damn--!”

“Oh shut up, save your pointless threats,” Stryker said over him and threw the folder back towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance here, you filthy mongrel. Don’t be stupid. Tell me where she is and I will let you walk out of here with you tail firmly intact between your legs.”

Oddly enough the Wolverine and him were in unison with the decision. “You can kiss my ass, bub.”

It took hours before Stryker finally got his fill of his ‘entertainment’ and left him to himself. He wove in and out of consciousness, unable to escape the nightmare. Awake or asleep he was stripped bare and strapped to cold metal and wet from blood or sweat or whatever.

It was pitch black and originally he though the pain had blinded him. But there was some commotion outside of his door and then a streak of light before the darkness returned around him.

He thought for sure that during his ‘bonding’ with Stryker the bastard had actually screwed up. That he was finally going to die and be rid of it all. Surely he wouldn’t heal if he bled out. But the man had talent, knew more about how much his mutation could take then he did.

Straddling the border between nightmare and hell was slowly driving him insane. Hours into the prolonged isolation part of his ‘breaking’ his mind managed to concoct her smell. Cinnamon and honey forced its way to him through the blood, gunpowder, and formic acid. He focused on it, trying to push out everything else. Maybe, just maybe, he’d remember that smell, even after his memory was wiped clean and he was a blood-lusting killing machine again. If he concentrated hard enough on the spicy sweetness more things came clearer. He could almost hear her footsteps too– light and quick, slightly off-balanced.

He closed his eyes and fought back the image of the tank and tried to picture her instead. It was so easy, now that her scent was strong in his mind. Old, strong green eyes surrounded by a baby face; finally he had found some sort of a rest from the grotesque nightmare he was in.

A quiet, long drawn out metallic moan came from somewhere in the room. His mind was too lost in its oasis to pinpoint it. Or care.

“Logan.” Her voice whispered to him, calling him from somewhere.
“Logan.” He lost himself in the soothing thick southern accent that melted over his nerves. The pain lessened each time it said his name, a sweet, ethereal healing chant. “Logan.”

“Logan, sugah. Ya gotta try real hard ta wake up for me now.”

The lines between reality and unconsciousness must have blurred worse then he thought because he was sure he had opened his eyes. But opening his eyes should have meant that she wasn’t there anymore.

“Hey there, cowboy. An’ here ah thought ya was gonna stand me up all night long.” Her eyes. They weren’t shimmering emerald green he had envisioned. They were dark, stale and puffy.

“No,” he groaned, flinching at the pain that soared through his brutalized throat at getting the word out.

“You’re... you’re not supposed to be here.” Each word was edged with glass and cut deeper and deeper.

A soft cotton gloved hand laid lightly over his stomach. The same spot Stryker’s cold rubber one was hours ago. “Neitha are ya. That’s why ahm here.”

They were fucking with his head already. That had to be it. They were screwing with his memories, using them against him to make him crack. She was wearing the old gloves, torn and dirty. She had gotten knew ones. It couldn’t be her. They couldn’t have caught her. Not already. They just couldn’t have.

Fiery tears leaked from his eyes, burning down his cheek and made the head inside his throat an unbearable inferno.

“No... No, you can’t be here—“ he chocked hard. “The car, everything, it was to keep you safe.” His voice wavered and he tried to blink her image back into focus again. “It was to keep you out of here...”

“Ah know, sugah.” She whispered into his ear, running her other hand through his hair to try and sooth him. “But ta be fair ya ruined mah plan ta keep *ya* out of here first. Guess we both made quite a pile up.”

She jumped back as he suddenly began thrashing, his agitation taking a hold of him. “No. No! You can’t be here! You can’t be real. It can’t be for nothing. Please, please it can’t all be for nothing.”

She had to bit down hard on her bottom lip to fight back the tears as she watched him. Her memories from the Them she had in her head prepared her for a lot of the things she might see, and she was able to brace herself before she came in. But none of them, not a damn one, included him crying. She remembered seeing him awake as he was pumped full of hot liquid metal and he hadn’t cried. And here he was a crying mess and it was completely her fault.

“Shhh... Okay. Okay, Logan.” She forced a tentative smile to her face as she stepped back beside him and carefully put her hand on his arm. “Ya right. Ah ain’t really here. Ah ain’t real.”

She waited as his eyes searched her face and she fought to keep the smile up. He relaxed slowly and let his head fall back down onto the table he was strapped to.

“You’re not real.” He repeated with a sigh and she quickly nodded and wiped her hand over his face, desperate to remove the evidence of what she’d done to him.

“Naw, not in tha least bit. But if ah don’t get ya out of here ah’ll neva get mah wings.”

He starred back at her silently as she could tell her was confused as to just how a figment of his imagination was going to help him escape. But she was. She was going to get him the fuck out of here if she had to drain everybody in the state to do it.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself as much as possible before she turned her attention back to the sight that made her stall in the door.

His legs were covered in blood that was slowly trickling from the long, deep cuts down both his shins. Her gut flipped over the closer she got. Two metal clamps in each leg held the skin back, showing off the tainted gleam of metal inside.

“If...if ah take these out,” She began and tried her best to still her trembling hand before she laid it on his knee, inches above one of the gashes. “If ah take these out ya will heal, right?”

Because of the restraint on his chest he couldn’t lift his head up enough to see her but he could feel her hand and the searing just below it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll heal. I heal.”

She nodded and tried to smile at him again to encourage the sanity she could see slowly returning to his eyes. “Ya sure do, sugah. Alright, ah’ll... jus’ let me get these damned bonds of ya first.”

“No.” He barked and flinched again at the pain it caused in his tender throat. “Take them out first. I... I don’t want to hurt you.”

She was going to give him an ‘it hurts me more to see you like this’ but it wasn’t about her. If that was what he wanted then that was what she was going to do. Hell, at this point she would have even given some consideration to calling Them in if he had asked her to. Thankfully he hadn’t said that or worse to just leave him and get out. “Okay. Should ah count or somethin’ or jus’ do it?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay,” she repeated, more to herself than to him, as she starred down at the sight in front of her. She took a second to look over the hideous contraptions lodging firmly into his legs, not wanting to hurt him more than necessary. Lt. Anderson guided her eyes to a release trigger on the side.

One hand grasped the side of his leg to steady it while the other moved to the clamp and lightly lay over. She tried not to push it any farther into his leg but she had to have a grasp on it or she couldn’t pull it out. Quickly she flipped the trigger and pulled the first clamp.

The claws sprang out of their holding just as she pulled it away and he grunted, but managed to stay muted. His body was another story and it screamed loudly, bucking hard off the slab, the bonds wrapped around his arms, chest, and legs, being the only thing keeping him onto the bed.

“Ahm sorry,” She mumbled but quickly moved to the next one. The process was repeated three more times before each offensive device was thrown to the floor.

She tried to sooth him by ‘shhh’ him softly and massaging the sides of both his legs; her gloves were stained with his blood already, a little more wouldn’t hurt. Sure enough, right before her eyes the gap in the skin slowly started to shrink, joining itself back together.

“Alright, sugah.” She quickly moved to his head again, pulling out a key from shirt and reaching for the first wrist bond. “One of tha nice men in tha hall was very generous an’ said ya could barrow his pants.”

She laid the folded black square beside him. His now free hand slowly moved to touch it but was stopped as she leaned over him, plastering her chest over his to reach his other hand. He was trapped and could do nothing but lay there until she finished. He couldn’t help but wonder if she did it on purpose, the action brought her neck extremely close to his nose and he was practically immersed in the cinnamon and honey confection that blocked off all his other senses. She was gone and at his feet sooner than he was ready for and he jerked at the gunpowder corrupting through her solacing scent.

“Okay.” She was back around his side again, returning the key back into her shirt. “Ah don’t mean ta put pressure on ya or anythin’, but ya gotta be able ta walk. We’re awfully damn far in here. An’ there ain’t no columns.”

She watched as the muscles in his arms and back danced and jerked under his skin as he pushed himself up. He grabbed the pants and unfolded them, putting one foot in.

“You’re not going to make a joke about me being nude?” He huffed, his eyes and attention all on trying to get the pants on without actually having to stand up.

“Ah haven’t seen anythin’ funny.” His head jerked up at the seriousness in her voice only to find her face just as stern. She shrugged at his shocked reaction, and forced her third smile for the day. “Ya’ll be tha first one ta know when ah do, though.”

He nodded, flashing a weak grin of his own.

“Ya sure ya can walk, Logan?” She asked, the humor dying in her voice again.

“I can walk.” He strongly declared and pushed off of the table.

His feet connected with the ground but his knees either forgot or weren’t strong enough to lock and he grabbed the table to keep from buckling. Rogue was quickly at his side, her hands wrapped around his arm, *again* pointlessly trying her damnest to hold him up.

“Logan—“

“I can do it.” He interrupted her. Strong, defiant sapphire eyes meet hers where up till now pained frantic ones were. She nodded to him, biting down on her lip again, but kept her hands locked around him.

His mutation was lagging horribly from the vast about of healing it had to take care of during Stryker’s visit and not having any fuel put in. But it would work, it always did. It just needed a little bit more time.

He leaned against the table and took several deep breaths. It just needed some more time. He turned his head to the pillar of a little girl at his side. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Ahm not really here, remember, sugah?”

“I mean it, Rogue. How’d you get in? Where are we? What’s it like out there?”

“The same way ah always do. Ah don’t have a fuckin’ clue. An’ watch were ya step in tha hall, there’s quite a few bodies layin’ around.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, slightly surprised. That was the closest to a straight answer he’d ever gotten out of her the first time around. Slowly he leaned down and buried his nose in her hair. She didn’t flinch that time, but stayed uncomfortably still. Still, even standing in the middle of a secret military base she didn’t smell the least bit afraid.

Well if she wasn’t afraid then neither was he. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s get tha fuck out of here.”

He took her hand, it was sickeningly damp, probably from his blood, but his hand couldn’t have been much better. The first step was careful but he could feel how much stronger his legs were already.

“But Logan, there’s a rumor goin’ round mah head that there’s a captain here that plays a mean yahtzee. Ah bet we could take him.”

He jerked around to glare at her but was met with a naughty little grin plastered all over her face. Her hand in his gave him a little squeeze.

He couldn’t help it, a small smile spread onto his face too. Guess that was supposed to be her joke for him. “We’ll look him up later, kid. Let’s go.”

She wasn’t kidding about the bodies in the hall. He barely got three feet out of the door before he stumbled over two black lumps. One of them without pants.

The poor bastards probably never even knew what hit Them. Their skin was marginally more disgusting that his. It was a purply grey and translucent so that Their blue veins underneath showed clearly through. He couldn’t tell if They were dead or not. Everything in that place smelled like death or decay, which was exactly why they had to get out of there.

Actually, he had never really *seen* the walls before. Just flashes of memory of them being dank, runny green. Now that he was conscious and/or not being experimented on he could tell they were covered in a thick coat of moss. Well that explained the smell and the dampness.

“Ah think ah came down this way.” The girl pointed down one of the many dark corridors, uncertainty very much in her eyes.

“You think?” He groaned, rubbing a hand back and forth over the top of his head. They weren’t going at a nearly fast enough pace. And he knew it was his fault. But her inane sense of direction wasn’t helping either.

“What? This whole damn place looks tha same. Like tellin’ tha difference between white lighten’ an’ moonshine,” she huffed. She starred down the two hall in front of her, narrowing her eyes and studying each.

He took the opportunity of her deliberation to lean against the wall and ease some of the painful pressure in his legs. The wall actually protested with a sickening ‘skwelch’ when his weight fell against it. To punish him it sent some kind of liquid crawling down his back. But seeing as how he already felt absolutely repugnant it did little to bother him.

“Oh!” She suddenly cheered, making him jump. “Its this way.”

He winced as he pushed off the wall. “You sure?”

“Yep.” She giggled. It was just as horrific and maniacal as he remembered, and he’d was actually ecstatic to hear it. “Ah can see Mr. Wallace down there.”

He walked back to her and peered down the hallway she pointed at. Sure enough another body was face-planted in the middle of the floor.

“What did I say? Breadcrumbs,” he grunted.

“Give me shit later, sugah, now we run.” She looked him over, half dressed and soaked and looking positively beat to hell. “Well, walk.” she corrected herself.

He pushed past her with a small growl. “Fast walk,” She called after him.

He kept walking ahead of her but she still wasn’t done.

“Power walk.” She declared with another giggle. “Help keep ‘em buns of steel lookin’ good.”

Coming to a sudden stop he rounded on her, narrowing his eyes. “You are aware this is *worse* than a life or death situation, right?”

She shrugged again and closed the distance between them. As she past him she gave him a light pat on the butt. “It wouldn’t be Tuesday if it wasn’t.”

Quietly he followed her, wanting the conversation to end before he got a headache to go along with the rest of the issues in his body. Her remark worried him slightly. It had been Thursday morning when he rammed his car into Theirs. But then again just because she said it was Tuesday didn’t really mean it was. A fact she probably didn’t see the significance of.

*************

“I just need a second.” His legs were screaming at him, nearly as loud as his stomach. They had been walking for what felt like miles and miles of dark corridor that only led or more dark corridors. He added whatever asshole who designed this place to his ‘claw to death’ list.

“One Mississippi. Okay, let’s go.” She grabbed his wrist and continued walking. He grumbled in his chest but let her drag him, like she could move him if he didn’t.

His legs weren’t the worse thing. The worst was the continuous dripping from water coming off the ceiling and adding to the shallow river around their feet. And the ‘slaush’ of their feet moving through the water, it was just as bad. Except if had the added bonus of making more resistance against the muscles in his legs, making them work all the harder. And they were both bare footed which was only slightly more unhygienic than wearing some other man’s pants.

The corridors forked again, something they did often. She must have been finally clear on her bearings because it was the first time she didn’t stop but immediately headed right.

“You sure?” He asked, like he did every time. They hadn’t passed anymore of her ‘breadcrumbs’ in a while.

“Not really. But ah figure, ya know, tha old sayin’– ‘go right for it is the side of God’.”

His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from going any further down the hallway. “We’re not going right.”

Her eyes fell from his face to where he was touching her. A little too close to the edge of her shirt sleeve for her comfort. “We’re not?”

“No,” he answered in a breath and began walking back toward the other way, dragging her with him. “Come on, we need to move faster.”

“You can’t move faster,” she pointed out, her voice soft.

What he should have done was run the minute she had him uncaged. But he let weakness take hold of him and now they both would suffer the consequence. The over ridden smell of gunpowder cut through the mildew.

“The hell I can’t.”

He took off and she grunted from the jerk on her arm. Once it came apparent he was serious she pick up the speed, not wanting to put any more stress on him by making him drag her. She couldn’t see how this would last long, he was practically a slug before and running through the muck was probably asking his legs for more than they could do.

She followed him as he winded through the corridors, not stopping for anything. Hopefully, he had some clue where he was taking them and they weren’t just running in circles around the base.

Without warning he came to a stop and she got as far as opening her mouth to ask if he was okay before he shoved her into the wall. It really didn’t help her overly sensitive head and she was going to tell him as much when his body flatten itself over hers, knocking all the air out of her.

Gunshots rang out in the corridor, the only evidence of them was the initial pop and the whistling of the bullets going past then nothing as they disappeared into the darkness. After the gunshots came yelling. Then the slaushing of feet that wasn’t theirs.

“Move it, darlin’,” He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her in front of him. The gun shots continued behind them and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the girl. Visibility was poor, true, but They couldn’t really be that bad of a shot. All the time. In fact, now that he thought about it the only time They had made contact with him lately was when he was walking away from her.

At that point each time halls led to more halls she just randomly picked one. The goal wasn’t so much get out, but just not to get shot. First things first and all that.

When he shoved her first it was to block her body from bullets she would most definitely heal from. But it was quickly becoming apparent that it was not the reason why she still was leading him. The distance separating him from her was getting was getting greater and greater while the distance between him and Them shrank. She tried to keep and eye on him without being caught off guard by anything that might pop up in front of them. That was until she couldn’t hear his disturbance of the water behind her.

“Logan!” She whipped around, panic in her voice. Thankfully he was still there, just a few feet back. He was doubled over, his whole body rocking as he panted forcing more air into his lungs

“I’m okay. I just need a second.” He said between gasps as she ran back to him.

“Logan, we can’t stop.”

“Don’t you think I know that?! Fuck–!” He roared as a bullet ripped through his forearm. Okay, maybe she wasn’t a bullet-free force field.

“God damnit! STOP SHOOTIN’ AT US!” She screamed down the corridor, her face now bright red from exhaustion, anger, frustration, and a myriad of other emotions that added to the pounding in her head.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work, darlin’.” He pushed her forward again, making her run. He didn’t know he was going to do it but he was going to have to keep up better. Because otherwise she was going to slow down to him. And getting her out was the most important thing.

************

The keeping up plan was going as well as he’d hope. In fact, all he wanted to do was lop his legs off and be done with them. They weren’t helping him much anyway, especially since the water was getting deeper. The arm could go with them as far as he was concerned. The bullet wound was not healing. Well, it probably was, since he wasn’t bleeding as hard anymore, but it was still an open, burning hole in his arm. He could just imagine his healing factor cussing him out. It might as well, Wolverine was. The beast did not like the running, although not because of the pain. It wanted Stryker’s head. At the end of his claws.

Rogue looked like she wasn’t having so much fun either. Which was a shame because from what he could tell this was sort of her thing. She was running pretty good. Still had to look back and check on him. When he saw worried green eyes he knew it was time to pick up speed again. But every now and then she would slow down on her own slightly and press the heel of her palm to her forehead. Her poor head. She must have been going through hell. He counted seven bodies himself and there was no telling how many more there were in the corridors they didn’t go down. He wondered if her damn concussion ever even got a chance to heal.

Wherever she was leading she must have been using information from Them because they were actually able to loose Them. The gunshots stopped and the only noise in the widening corridors was their own feet in the water and his grunting, labored breathing.


The change in scenery was actually helped a little bit. The ceiling was getting higher and higher until it had to be fifteen feet high. Which diffused the smell of sewage so at least his nose wasn’t suffering as much as the rest of him was. He was sure that if he wasn’t lagging behind so bad he could even pick up her scent. But as it was it was still sewage, iron, antiseptic, formic acid, and salt. It was just— less sewage.

“Ya okay?” She called over her shoulder, slowing down again to let him catch up.

“No,” he coughed out. There was no point lying to her. How the hell was he suppose to be okay?

At his response she completely stopped and waited for him to come to her. Which pissed him off.

“Logan, ah can try–“

“No,” he interrupted her. He knew exactly where that sentence was going to go. The same place it went in the staircase in Wisconsin, except for he hated the idea even more now than he did then.

“But ya–“ she tried again but again he stopped her.

“I’m busted up and tore to shit and completely falling apart. Well aware of that, kid. I’m also not letting you go anywhere without me. The choices here is we both get out or just you get out.”

She giggled, his last words made their first meeting play out in her head. “There are several possible outcomes.”

He stood right in front of her, looking from the gloves on her hand to her haunted eyes. “Nope. Just the two. But I’d prefer we both get out of here.” He quoted her, obviously reminiscing the same thing. “We just have to keep in front, keep running.”

Her eyes lost some of their shine at his words. They both probably knew that ‘keep running’ was something he couldn’t do, not for much longer. But he was going to figure out a way to make them. He could cut them off after they got out if he had to.

They continued running again. Slower this time. She let him led, adjusting her speed to whatever kept him in front of her. The sounds of Them in the distance blackness behind them started up again, but it was faint. It served more as a motivation, as if their chests could take any more abuse from their hearts.

The opening of the hallways were becoming increasing larger, however. It gave him hope. That had to mean they were getting closer to something. Maybe a hanger entrance. He was sure any kind of fresh air would do wonders for his mutation. He always did heal faster outside then indoors. Maybe once they got out he could pick up the speed and stop keeping them both behind.

“I think we’re getting close, kid.” He declared, but she said nothing back and he wasn’t sure his body could turn around to look at her and run at the same time. Her slaushing was still behind him, though, so he didn’t worry too much about it. She was probably just having issues with her head again or something.

“Logan,” her voice called out from behind him and he stopped and turned around.

She was a few feet away, staring at the arch way over the. Slowly she stepped closer until she could run her hand along the trim of it. Her eyes locked onto the dripping red button at the side of it. “What’s this?”

He groaned. Standing on his legs almost hurt as much as running on them. They were so close, he could practically smell the trees now. And she wanted to stop and waste time because she was curious?

“It’s a flood gate. Locks the base down water tight.” He explained, although made no attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Huh.” Was all she said. So nonchalant and effortless. Right before her hand slammed down on the button setting off the alarm and sending a massive steal door barreling down from the ceiling between them, cutting him off from her.

“Rogue–!” He screamed and ran forward, but the flood gate moved too fast and it collided hard with the floor, spraying water all over him.

“No! God damnit, Rogue!” He pounded on it with his fists but it remained immovable. There was no controls on his side of it. Nothing. The claws came out next and he slashed at the blockade with everything he had. He didn’t know how long he tried it, he just slashed until his arms were too weak to lift the adamantium again. The damage done however was only leaving shallow cuts in the metal.

“No!!” He roared again, slamming his shoulder into it. How could she fucking do it to him again?! What part of him *not wanting* her help did she not understand?! He had to get in there. There had to be a way around the lock down. He had to. This was not an option. He didn’t know what guardian angel handbook she was reading but he was almost sure it didn’t say guardian angels were supposed to take your spot in hell.

“ROGUE!”

He only had to walk another forty feet before freedom was laid out in front of him. Someone was offering him a very sick choice. Here he was out, trees gently blowing in front of him, and no one chasing him. He just had to keep walking. And why shouldn’t he? He went through more than any man ever should in a life time. And he had to endure multiple life times of it. Besides, it’s what she wanted anyway. She made her choice, and certainly without any influence from him. In fact he should leave her to Them. Maybe she’d learn her lesson. And so what if Stryker turned her into a mindless killing machine? He was right, she was a natural. With her mutation she was born for it.

God damnit! Standing around thinking doesn’t do either of them any good. He couldn’t even rely on the Wolverine, he was just as conflicted. While he wanted his freedom he also was furious at the thought of letting some slip of a girl fight his battle for him.

“God damnit!”

Now he still had to find a way back in there. Of all the things he never thought he would do in his life breaking into a locked down military base had to be on the top. Right above trying to play hero. This whole damn ordeal proved he didn’t know how to be a hero.

“This is such a bad idea,” he groaned and turned around, making his way back.


************


She must have been causing some kind of havoc in there. He had to skirt halfway around the place before he found an opening. An opening in which men were running out. Whether or not They were running for Their lives or looking for him he couldn’t tell. But at least it was a way in.

He waited, crouched down low in the mud for the flow of men to lessen. Their yelling still didn’t give him any clue as to how it was in there. It was all code or jibberish or Greek or something. But either way he was relieved slightly. They didn’t catch her. Not yet any way. They wouldn’t be looking for him if They had her.

“Private Samuels, I want—“three claws embedded into his chest stopped the uniformed man’s communication. Sick, wet gurgling noises came from inside his throat and the walkie-talkie fell out of his limp hand to the mud.

Logan came around the corner and peered into the black opening. No one else was coming. With a quick jerk of the muscles in his forearm the claws returned to their holding and the body fell hard to the ground.

The path was clear right in front of him and his feet immediately started moving back into the darkness. They willingly moved him into hell for the girl, despite the protesting of his brain.

The further in he moved the more he realized that he was in a completely different part of the base. The walls weren’t covered in sludge but instead dull grey cinderblocks. The floor was muddy, but not shin deep water. And there were even sconces on the wall making a very dim, but lit, path.

Still, there were no doors, just miles of corridors that would suddenly split and bend different directions, like some god damn rat trap. He could hear noise, but it was just that, nothing he could pick up on. No sounds of the girl screaming. While it was true that would probably be a bad sign, at least he could find her. At this rate he could wander around until he eventually starved to death.

On and on he walked. Finding nothing except for occasionally having to hide behind a wall as a black suited demon ran by. He was actually very grateful for the brief trip outside. He was no longer eager to detach his legs from the rest of his body. They worked well for him, blood once again flowing properly, muscles strong. Hell, the bullet hole in his arm practically zipped right up. If he could only get something to eat.

A hero sandwich popped into his head and he almost laughed at the sudden ridiculousness. That had to be the girl’s doing, she was telepathic and she didn’t know it. Either that or she was beginning to rub off on him and he was going crazy too.

Heavy footsteps squishing through the mud dragged him out of his own head. They were strong and straight, completely orderly. Definitely not the girl.

Quickly he ducked behind the closest bend in the corridor, flattening his back against the wall. His ears perked up when the footsteps stopped at the same time. Shit. Had he been too loud? Fuck, there was no way one of those bastard could have heard him.

“Wolverine.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Of course it was fucking him. Maybe he’d keep walking. Maybe he just thought he heard something. Logan fought to keep his breathing still when his lungs were pounding against his chest nearly as hard as his heart was.

“You might as well come out, my pet. I know you’re there.”

Fucking hell! Fine, he wanted to see him. Fine. He released the claws, letting them slice off a corner of the cement wall.

“Very attractive,” Stryker’s cold voice floated over to him, more fucking entertained then scared. “I see you sent your little bitch to destroy my base while you scurried off. Very poorly played, pet.”

“I didn’t tell her to do shit,” Logan yelled around the corner.

“You know,” Stryker continued, completely ignoring him. “I don’t know what your problem is. I made you indestructible. I gave you a purpose. You should be thanking me!”

He snorted, his top lip curling up. “You took my life away, you bastard!”

“I didn’t kill your little girlfriend, Wolverine. You did.”

“Shut up!”

“I cleaned you up! Gave you a mission when you were a lost, whimpering mess! You came to *me* you ungrateful mongrel! Don’t you remember, Wolverine? You came to me! Blood already in your eyes, wanting to kill. All I did was give you the tools and pointed the direction!”

He roared, digging his finger tips into his head, trying to push back the memories. He spent years sorting through them, coping with them and all that he’d done in his life. And in a matter of minutes Stryker’s voice made them fresh again. Fresh wounds his healing mutation didn’t cover.

“It’s true, Wolverine. And you know it.”

“Fuck you, Stryker” He yelled, trying to push the beast back down before he did something stupid. “The only thing I want dead is you!”

The general’s chilling laughter all but echoed in his head. Then it was followed by the ring of a bullets being loaded in a gun. The click of the barreling being locked.

“You gonna shot me, Stryker?” He snorted. Swallow his courage and the last bit of his intelligence he stepped around the corner, claws out and ready at his side. “Go ahead, asshole. See what good it does you.”

Stryker looked up from his gun, a yellow tooth grin on his face. “Oh, I know it won’t kill you. But it will be enough to get my favorite pet back in his cage.”

He barely got one step forward before the girl came flying out of one of the hallways, a thick syrup screaming coming from her throat.

She hit Stryker hard, slamming his body into the wall with her own. Both her hands were bare, one gripped tight around his neck the other pushed deeply into the side of his face.

Logan stood in shock and actually stumbled backwards, away from both of them. The old general began screaming too. The tones of her deep roar and his strangled cry bounced off all the walls around them, amplifying the noise to an earth-shattering proportion.
He could only watch dumbfounded as Stryker tried to struggle with what strength he had, trying to push her away. But they stayed joined. Her eyes steady on his face, his head thrown back.

Logan took another step just as a single shot rang out, stopping his foot and everything else in sheer panic. Her whole body jerked but her hands remained tightly pressed into the older man’s flesh, even grabbed a little harder. After a few more seconds they stumbled together, taking one step back, closer to Logan, and then colliding back into the wall in the other direction.

Only did they finally separate when Stryker crashed to the ground at her feet. A hard thud radiated through out the empty corridors.

She followed half a second later, falling first to her knees before toppling over to her side. The only noise was a soft squish when her body fell into the mud.


The gears in his head spun wildly but he couldn’t seem to get enough of a whole thought together to make his body move. It felt like it had been hours he had been standing there. Just looking at their bodies both lying in the shallow mud in front of him.

It was like he was waiting. Waiting for Stryker to get up a tell him nice try or Rogue to jump to her feet and ask him if he tried chasing geese for fun or something completely random like that. But neither move. She didn’t move.

The thought finally slammed into his brain and he was going towards her before his feet even started moving.

“Rogue.” He whispered because his voice couldn’t manage anything else as he kneeled down beside her. Carefully he took her shoulders in his hands and eased her off her side and onto her back so that she was in his lap.

“Rogue.” He said again, but it turned into more of a whimper when he was met with gently closed eyelids.

“Come on, kid.” His eyes floated from her face down her body. He cried out when they fell onto the burgundy red stain on her side from her blood mixing with the brown mud.

“No...” he stuttered, choking on tears. “No, darlin’, no.”

Frantic blue eyes searched for their murky green counterpart, but they remained hidden on the all too peaceful baby face. He watched in horror as the pale ivory streaks in her hair got bolder, swallowing up more of the brown as death took a firmer grip on her.

Her body was completely limp in his arms. He held her tightly to him to reduce jarring her as he ran through the maze out of hell. Some how he instantly knew which way to turn, which way to go, but it was still taking too long. She hadn’t made a noise in some time. At first she quietly moaned or groaned if she bounced too hard in his arms. Now she was just silent, along with everything else around him. Everything but his own blood pounding in his head.

Later rather than sooner he pushed the heavy metal door open with his back and reintroduced her to fresh air. The tress were still now, the wind completely dead. He sniffed the air, unsure what he was looking for. Mainly he could only pick up the pine surrounding them and the faint tinge of gunpowder mixing with her blood. He tried to push the smell back, it clogged his entire being and made him just want to fall to the ground and howl. But he needed to think straight, needed to get the girl some help.

He adjusted her carefully in his arms and concentrated. He had to push the trail of god damn squirrels and the like out of the way but he could finally pick up exhaust and aluminum. The truck.

Hee barreled through the trees and tried to block her body from limbs as best he could but figured it was the least of either of their worries.

Sure enough, blatantly in the open, sat the old camper. How none of the military men came by it he couldn’t figure out. And fuck if he gave a damn right now. He had to get her in the car, get her to a hospital.

“Shit,” he swore as he jerked the side door open. He couldn’t take her to a hospital. Stryker said she was wanted in three states. They would just patch her up then throw her in jail. And they’d be back to god damn square one.

He carefully laid her across the front seat. A strangled cry broke out of him when her hand slowly fell off the seat and dangled lifeless just above the cab floor, mocking him and his efforts.

“Come on, darlin’,” he crawled into the car, squeezing his massive body between the seat and the glove compartment. “I ain’t done getting into trouble yet, kid. Not by a long shot. Whose gonna save my ass if you leave me?”

His fingers were caked in mud and her blood as he trailed them down the white streak in her hair. Their path continued down her body til they rested on the matching stain on her soiled ‘Rally Tire’ shirt.
“Please, Rogue,” he pleaded quietly into her hair. “Please. I still need you. I still need a guardian angel. You’re it, kid. I don’t think I’m gonna get another.”

“God damnit!” He screamed when she remained unresponsive to his commands. “You said you were on my side! You said whatever side I was on, you were on my side! Well, guess what, darlin’? My side is alive! So get your fucking ass over here!”

His face was flushed and his body began quivering, but she was unimpressed. He finally broke and his heavy head fell to her chest. Hot tears flowed out of him and burned his eyes. Her shirt eagerly soaked them up just like all the other fluids she was covered in, uncaring of the impact of them.

Flashes of Rose played behind his clinched eyelids. It was sick, disgusting joke that everyone died because of him but he never could. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the girl’s face again, not with Rose's image fresh in his mind. He didn’t want to mix to the two together, they both deserved their own hole in his heart. Rose had been an accident, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Rogue fucking died for him, made sure she was in the god damn wrong place at the wrong time. He’d never believed in God, not after his parents. Not after Rose and sure as hell not after Stryker. But something sent this angel to him and now was taking her back, whether he was ready or not.

Then, just when he thought there could be no pain worse then the rail wedge in his head and the churning vortex in his chest convulsing lighting began shooting through him. His muscles became infected with it and he could feel the veins in his arms swell well beyond their normal size yet his blood stopped flowing.

He managed to make the muscles in his neck move his head. Her shirt had rode up slightly, bringing her cold skin to his flaming. The pain and the fight to force his lungs to work was so intense it took a second for him to register the moving flesh under his palm.

He choked both to force some air into him and in astonishment. He could actually see it, the hole in her side closing, new skin pushing sluggish blood out of the way. His mutation, it had to be. She didn’t heal. He guessed her skin was looking for life or something, since it could no longer get it from her.

“That’s it, kid. Take it.” He forced out, relishing in the pain that formally only his demons had been able to inflect on him.

“You hear that?!” He suddenly had the strength to scream. “You can’t fucking have her back---” His remaining air rushed out of him in one foul swoop. The muscles in his entire body seizured as the blackness crept up around him. He managed to get one more look at her face, at the tainted white locks that shined through the muck even brighter before the black cocoon engulfed him.


**********



Claustrophobia slowly began eating at his sensitive nerves. His instinct was to spring into attack but his body had no spring in it. And his arms felt hollow, which meant the claws were already out. So all that was left to do was open his eyes and face whatever he was destined for.

Trees. Glazed over a slightly blurry, he could make out trees, their limbs rustling slightly in the wind.

“Ya awake.”

The soft sigh made him turn his head. The girl. She was curled into a tight little ball, facing him on the other side of the car. The car. He was still in the truck.

“Am I dead?” He found himself asking. She didn’t look quite right for him to be alive. Paler than normal, flecks of color in her big green orbs that shouldn’t be there. Worse off, timid and tired and now no filthy gloves but instead her entire body.

“No.” She replied, still very quiet.

“But your skin,” he countered, “It kills.”

She shrugged and ran a hand through the dominating white markings in her hair, stripping the brown. A gesture he’d never seen her do before. “An’ ya heal.”

“There’s no healing from being dead, darlin’.”

“Ya’ve neva been killed by me before.”

He finally mustered enough strength in his arms to pull his body up and firmly sit upright in the seat. “You’re crazy,” he felt he had to point out.

She nodded with another little shrug of her shoulders. “‘Lil bit.”

A smirk spread across his lips. Then he noticed the thick mass laying over him. It had slid off his chest and pooled on his lap when he sat up. His fingers curled into the soft worn leather, careful to keep the claws away from it. “What...what’s this?”

She giggled, it was muted and flat, but still the song of an angel that made him jerk his head up to look at her.

Moving from her ball to her knees she closed the distance between them so she too could run her hand over the bundle. “Its tha jacket ah got ya. Ta replace ya otha one. Ah neva got a chance ta give it ta ya before, but... Anyway, ah know ya like tha brown leatha but they only had black. But its got tha stripes on tha arms like ya otha one did! And...and tha panelin’ is pretty much tha same and tha same kinda colla. But this one has tha vents in it that zip open an’ close. There’s two in tha front, one unda each arm an’ two in tha back. Ah figure that way ya could still wear it in tha summa an’ not get too hot.... Oh!” She took the opportunity to finally take a breath as she moved the jacket around on his lap and opened it up. “Tha guy said there’s a deep inside pocket unda tha right arm, right there, ta hide a gun. Ah told him ya didn’t like guns, though, an’ he said it works pretty good for wallets too. So there’s that.....”

He didn’t look at the jacket at all as she rambled on. His eyes were locked onto her face, lost in the emotions that played across it. Excitement, apprehension, longing, eagerness, joy and a million other things as she went on. And he was so disappointed in himself, that he couldn't find in himself a little bit surprised that she’d actually bought him a new jacket to replace one she had no fault in destroying. He couldn’t even give her that.

“Ah..” She went on, her glazed still locked onto the mass of fabric. “Ah even ran it ova with tha truck a few times. Ya know, for tha street credit. Ah figure ya too much of a badass, sugah, to be walkin’ ‘round with a shiny new jacket.”

She finally brought her eyes up to his face as she sat back on her knees, relinquishing her grip on the jacket. Now that he could get a closer look at her she really did look like death. A death any man would willingly walk into and he tried his damnest to. It seemed not only would they not let each other rescue the other, they were blocking the other from dying for them too. And they were both exhausted and trounced from the circle.

“Ya scared of me,” she stated, breaking the silence. There was no question in her thick and slightly hoarse voice.

Her eyes shifted slightly, obviously conversing with his voice in her head. So there was no point in denying it. “I’m scared that I don’t know who I am when you’re around.”

Her head dropped for a second before leveling back with him. “Who are ya when ahm not around?”

The question came from her dried full lips. Like it was so simple to say and it should be so simple to answer. He thought about it for a second, looking at the claws jutting out between his knuckles before forcing them back in. It really was simple. “A loner. With a dead past and no future, whose always on the run. And is only alive because dying is just too fucking damn hard.”

She shifted closer, laying her bare hand on the back of the chair behind him. “Don’t ya get it, sugah? That’s exactly who ah am. A loner with a dead past an’ no future, always runnin’. But not when ahm with ya--” She stopped and tried to reign herself back in. She took a deep breath then continued. “Ah don’t wanna be a bitch in a bar or a slut on tha road or a satanic spawn or all tha otha shit ah am ta tha people ah’ve touched. When ahm with you....Ah want ta be ya angel.”

He was lost in the haunting emerald eyes all but asking his permission as her words washed over him. “I don’t deserve an angel,” he admitted.

“Ah don’t deserve ta be one,” she quickly countered, flashing a smirk before it died too soon on her lips.

“Nah, darlin’. I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty,” he said softly. She pulled back slightly when he raised his hand, but his dark blue eyes pleaded to her as well. Tentatively she relented, moving closer to him. He lightly laid his hand in her hair, running his fingers slowly through the clumped mass.

“Ya can’t kiss me,” She pointed out breathless.

His hand continued its movement until it gripped the back of her neck, protected by her hair. His thumb rubbed lazy circled on to her neck as he pulled her forward, making the distance between them minimum. “That just *proves* you’re an angel, darlin’.”






The End


Two songs played one after the other one day and inspired this fic:


Billy Idol- Rebel Yell

Last night a little dancer came dancin' to my door
Last night a little angel Came pumpin cross my floor
She said "Come on baby I got a licence for love
And if it expires pray help from above"

In the midnight hour she cried- "more, more, more"
With a rebel yell she cried- "more, more, more"
In the midniight hour babe- "more, more, more"
With a rebel yell- "more, more, more"
More, more, more.

She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg
But when I'm tired and lonely she sees me to bed
What set you free and brought you to be me babe
What set you free I need you here by me
Because

[Chorus}

He lives in his own heaven
Collects it to go from the seven eleven
Well he's out all night to collect a fare
Just so long, just so long it don't mess up his hair.

I walked the walk for you, babe
A thousand miles with you
I dried your tears of pain, babe
A million times for you

I'd sell my soul for you babe
For money to burn with you
I'd give you all, and have none, babe
Just, just, justa, justa to have you here by me
Because

[Chorus]
More, more, more.

Oh yeah little baby
she want more
More, more, more, more, more.

Oh yeah little baby
she want more
More, more, more, more.




Aerosmith - Angel

I'm alone
Yeah, I don't know if I can face the night
I'm in tears and the cryin' that I do is for you
I want your love - Let's break the walls between us
Don't make it tough - I'll put away my pride
Enough's enough I've suffered and I've seen the light

[Chorus:]
Baby
You're my angel
Come and save me tonight
You're my angel
Come and make it all right

Don't know what I'm gonna do
About this feeling inside
Yes it's true - Loneliness took me for a ride
Without your love - I'm nothing but a begger
Without your love - a dog without a bone
What can I do I'm sleeping in this bed alone

[Chorus]
Come and save me tonight

You're the reason I live
You're the reason I die
You're the reason I give
When I break down and cry
Don't need no reason why

Baby , Baby
[Chorus]

You're my angel
Come and save me tonight
you're my angel
Come and take me allright
Come and save me tonight,
Come and save me tonight,
Come and save me tonight,
Come and save me tonight,
Come and save me tonight